Divine Right
by BastetCG
Summary: Fairy Tale AU. Castiel had never wanted to be king. Dean and Sam had been content to spend their days hunting the evil creatures in the forest. When the hunters stumble upon the prince, lost and injured, they must abandon their hunt and help Castiel on his long journey home. Eventual Destiel with several other side pairings. Updates every Saturday and Sunday.
1. Once Upon a Time

The stories always started out the same.

_Once upon a time…_

They all ended in pretty much the same way too. The brave knight ends up falling in love and _living happily ever after_. When Castiel was young, he spent a lot of time reading and re-reading that one book. _The Collection of Children's Fairy Tales_. He knew its place on the shelves by heart and always made a beeline for it upon his arrival in the dusty brown chambers of the palace library. He reverently turned the parchment pages, gently brushing a hand over the complicated weaving patterns of illuminations that lined the margins and headed each story. Gabriel had told him that their great-great-great-aunt had painted all the illuminations in the books in the library. Castiel didn't know how that could be possible since the library was so big and had so many books; Gabriel also had a habit of lying, although he liked to call it "creative embellishment". But that didn't stop Castiel's fascination with the stories or the book itself. He loved the way the leather smelled, it's brown cover embossed with small gold letters, and its spine expertly sewn. He remembered every detail.

Every child has a favorite book that they read over and over until it falls apart, and if Castiel had been any other child, this particular book might have met a similar fate, but little old Castiel was so unbearably reserved and cautious with every miniscule detail, the only damage that came to it was a small dog ear on page eighty-seven. The pages weren't numbered, but Castiel had counted and memorized that page, and then he'd folded the corner with extreme care because that was his story. Out of all the passages in the book, that was his favorite. Oh, yes, the one about the princess and the frog-turned-prince was just fine, as was the one about the little girl in her riding cloak and the ever popular one with the evil step mother; but Castiel's favorite was the one about the two princes who defeated a mighty evil in the forest, saving their respective kingdoms, and then uniting them with a marriage. He never grew tired of it. He wanted it.

He didn't want to live in the castle. He loved his father and mother and brothers and sister with every fiber of his tiny being, but he didn't like how cold and damp the castle was, or how empty the halls stood over him. He wanted to go out adventuring to meet new people and see the different things the world had to offer him. He didn't want to have his entire life, from birth to death, dictated out to him like he was some mindless puppet. He didn't want to marry the princess of the neighboring kingdom, he didn't want to have power over his servant, he didn't want to get up every day and sunrise for lessons and sparring and waiting for the day to be over.

When he could escape all that, he'd head directly to the library. He'd pull the giant bronze handles with all his might and slip in once the doors were open wide enough. Then he'd find his book and read. He would curl up near the enormous diamond-pained glass window on the second story and lose himself in the pages. When he finished, he'd find another leather bound world to explore, then another and another, and usually, by that time, Anael would be finished with her dance lessons. She liked to visit Castiel in the library and sit reading together in companionable silence for a few hours before supper was called in the main hall. Every day for at least eight years, Castiel would break their space and sit in her lap.

"Same story today, Castiel?" she would ask. He'd only nod, afraid that his voice might ruin his chances. He knew it must be aggravating to read the same thing each day, but he couldn't help himself. But Anael never complained, in fact more often than not, she'd smile and flip to page eighty-seven with no hint of frustration.

"Alright, let's see…" she cleared her throat, "The Knights of the Forest…

…_Once upon a time_…"


	2. Between Woods

They were closing in on it. There was no way this piece of shit was going to get away this time. It had eluded them for three months, each time just barely slipping through their fingers. Baby's hooves pounded ferociously against the fallen twigs and leaves, not caring about the thumps and cracks that followed. Dean had his sword drawn and ready, other hand gripping Baby's reins tightly. Sam rode beside him, reaching carefully for his crossbow which hung on his back. This was it; they'd kill this thing before it could kill anyone else. Dean could almost see it as it got sucked further and further into the woods.

"Dean!," Sam shouted, "It's headed for the border!"

"You think I don't know that, Sammy?" He flicked Baby's reins with a "Yah!" for good measure and she snorted and ducked her head in renewed effort. Soon they were far ahead of Sam and his horse, Ford.

"Dammit Dean, wait up! You can't take that thing on alone!"

"Then try and catch me Sammy-boy!" Dean smiled to himself as he hunched down and concentrated. Trees whizzed past on both sides, the lower branches catching and breaking on Dean's armor. He could still hear Sam behind him, frantically urging Ford on, but no horse, living or dead could beat his Baby, and that was a fact.

Dean was just glad that he'd finally get to slice the metaphorical head off this nasty-ass son of a bitch once they caught it. It'd killed three people in the last week as it moved from the Kingdom of Dema, through the woods, and towards the Celeta gates. In total, it had gotten to about seven people in its six month journey. It had taken a month for Sam to identify the creature from witness reports, a month to track it down, and now after four long months of chasing, they were about to finally get it!

An arrow whizzed past his head and struck a tree just behind the creature. Sam cursed and began shuffling around in his quiver for another. The forest had turned into one green blur of adrenaline and anticipation. Dean was almost close enough to take a stab at the creature, he buried his heels into Baby's sides and she charged forward.

Because if they caught this one and somehow managed to get it take on a human shape, because they knew these nasty pieces of work could do that somehow, they could interrogate, and then maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to find the one that took their mother, their father, and their childhood from them. Another arrow flew past and landed on its target, or rather, it passed through it; the creature hissed and continued its mad sprawl towards the Kingdom of Celeta. Dean brought his arm up, ready to strike it, just…just a little closer!

"C'mon! C'mon, Baby!" Dean brought his arm down at the exact moment Baby decided to spook. She snorted and whinnied and stopped so quickly she tripped over her own hooves. Luckily for Dean, the sudden stop threw him, and he was well out of her way as she tumbled and rolled on herself. Ford and Sam skidded to a halt a few seconds later, just as Baby was standing up again.

"Shit!" Dean stood shakily and limped over to his sword, which landed a good ten meters away. "Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!"

"What the hell happened?" Sam dismounted and patted Ford before examining their surroundings. Normally that was Dean's job, but he was too busy checking Baby over for any injuries to be bothered. Nothing seemed to be physically wrong with her, but she still kept shifting nervously back and forth on her hooves.

"Don't know. She just got spooked real bad and threw me. And shit! Now that thing's gonna make it to Celeta gates before we can kill it. Damn it, that's gonna be messy."

"You're telling me. But hey at least we'll get to see Missouri again?" And there Sam was, trying to put a positive spin on it. Dean rolled his eyes and shifted his pauldron so it sat on his shoulder better.

"Don't pull that. You know she'll have my nuts in a freaking skillet once she realizes we let it get into the city. If anything, we're going to see Pam." Baby whined loudly and started to rear before Dean managed to calm her just a little more.

"Oh no, if we go see Pam, you two will just end up making dirty jokes and sleeping all day." Sam said with a marked sound of disgust.

"Yeah," Dean agreed sarcastically, "_sleeping_."

"Aw, Dean!" Sam grimaced.

"What? It's not like I'm keeping you from chasing a little tale. Plus, Pam won't be angry when we tell her it escaped. That's what I'm more concerned about." It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes.

"Whatever. What's with Baby? She still seems unsettled." He brushed a gloved hand over the black horse's neck, and she huffed uncomfortably, eyes darting.

"I don't know. I'm not getting any weird vibes, are you?"

"Give me a second." Sam closed his eyes and exhaled. Dean could practically see his brother's soul seeping out of his body, searching the surrounding area. Suddenly the light around Sam's head retreated and Sam blinked back into reality. "It's nothing threatening, I think."

"You think?" Dean inquired incredulously. He took a more offensive stance and looked around the forest. The sun was just starting to set and the air was growing chilly. Dean sniffed and took a step closer to Baby.

"It felt like a-" Sam stopped as a low moan filled the space between the trees. "Dean," he said in a whisper, "isn't this near where we left one of those traps a month ago?"

"Yeah, I think so." They spoke in low tones, ears perked for anything that might tell them where the moan had come from. Sam cautiously stepped back towards Ford and pulled a piece of parchment from one of the saddle bags. He unrolled it and began tracing paths on it.

"It's only a few paces west."

"By a few do you mean, like, twenty few? Or like opposite side of the forest few?" Sam had a bad habit of understating this kind of thing, and Dean had learned his lesson the time Sam had said it would only take a few hours to track down a werewolf just outside Dema and the boys ended up chasing its tail for a month and a half. Sam rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Thirty seconds, tops. We can't find it, we head back towards Celeta," Sam proposed. Dean conceded and took the lead once Sam pointed him in the direction of the trap. Baby whinnied at them softly as they left the horses. A few twigs broke under Sam's enormous weight, but other than that, the forest was silent. There were no bird crowing, or nasty squirrels chattering in the trees. Even the constant buzz of insects fell silent. Dean hated that. It meant either a predator or death; he didn't care for either right now. The sun was almost completely gone below the horizon and Dean cursed himself for not thinking of bringing a torch. As if Sam could read his mind, he gathered some twigs and tied them together with a leather thong before lighting it with magic.

"Seriously?" Dean hissed.

"What?"

"I don't want you getting tired out by doing that, Sam. Quit it!" Sam rolled his eyes again and continued following his brother. Another moan, more of a sob really, broke the silence.

"What kind of trap was this anyway?" Dean tossed over his shoulder.

"The map says it was blade trap."

"Great. Messy." As it was, a sudden waft of blood alerted Dean to another presence. It was deep in the coolness of the oncoming night. No doubt that if the creature caught didn't bleed out, it would die in the nightly freezes. The smell got thicker and he could hear Sam's movements stiffen.

"Dean, that's human blood."

"What?"

"When I searched for a presence, it felt big enough to be a human, but I wasn't sure."

"Might have be a were or a shifter."

"Yeah, that's why I didn't say anything, but that is definitely human blood."

"Shit." Dean dropped all defensive posture and began clumsily stomping in the direction they were headed. "Awesome, Sam, just great. What the hell is a human doing in the Between Woods?"

"Amateur hunter?" Sam guessed, jogging to catch up with his brother. They'd stopped whispering, and now sheathed their weapons. As Dean looked up from his sword on his hip, he stopped abruptly, reaching out a hand to stop his brother.

The man was pinned to a tree, the blade stuck in his shoulder at a painful angle. The blade, combined with the force of gravity, was designed to cause hours of pain and tear ligaments to ribbons. It was genius, really. One of Dean's better designs, but still nothing to compare to Sam's handheld weapons. The knife attached to a long length of straight cut wood, which dovetailed into a hinge that released when the tripwire snapped. The man looked like he'd been there for about an hour, judging by the short wound just above his armpit. No permanent damage yet, but in a few hours? His arm would be useless, sliced right through. As the man stood now, it might even take less time, since he was currently passed out, weight held up by the blade.

"Oh come on!" Dean yelled to the treetops. "Can't we get a single break? I mean, seriously? We lose our hunt because Baby smelled this asshole," he gestured to the slumped figure pinioned to the tree, "And now we have an unconscious hoity-toity aristocrat to heal." He passed his brown glove over his eyes and threw his sword into the earth, point first. "Alright let's get the one percent-er down and out," he sighed, waving a hand at the tree.

Sam rolled his eyes and they walked forward to remove the well-dressed man from the tree. His eyes fluttered when Dean took ahold of his shoulder and he groaned miserably.

"Hey, hey," Dean tried to get on eye level with the man, "Are you awake?" The man only squinted and coughed, then grimaced and muttered something under his breath. "What was that?" Dean strained to hear him. "Sam, don't touch the blade, he's awake."

"Shit, Dean, it's pretty far in. I'm gonna need to break it," Sam replied when he'd finished hisinspection of the wound. The man's eyes flew open and he began to struggle against the grain in the knife, working it farther into his shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa there! Calm down! What's your name?" Dean gripped his shoulder in an effort to calm him down. He made his own quick inventory of the wound and the muddy color it left on the man's fine blue and black tunic. The man brought his arm up and weakly tried to push Dean and Sam away before convulsing in pain. "What's your name?" Dean repeated a little more forcefully. When the man was done with his shudders, he looked back up to Dean. "We're gonna try and get this out of you, but you gotta tell us your name." The man panted harshly and clenched his jaw.

"James."

"James?" Sam asked.

"James Emmanuel Novak." The man's eyes rolled back before his body fell slack against the blade again. Dean groaned and rubbed his forehead with his free hand.

"Frickin' nobles man, over the top with their stupid-ass drama. Well, now that he's passed out, think you can break it without killing him?" Dean said as he reached to hold the man's weight better.

"Yeah, should be easy." Sam gingerly took ahold of the blade and the man, James, grunted in protest, eyes scrunched up even though he was not awake.

"Shut up you, big baby," Dean chided to James. Sam closed his eyes and Dean bit his lower lip as he watched Sam's energy flow from his head, down his arm and around the blade slowly seeping into James's wound. Dean grimaced at the sight. A loud crack filled the silence of the dark forest, the torch from earlier extinguished and forgotten. Once that thunder peal ended, Dean looked up to see Sam grinning happily, if not wearily. A second later, he felt the full forces of James's weight and almost stumbled in struggle.

"Here, let me-" Sam reached his arms out to try and catch some of the noble's body, but Dean growled in protest, "No, Sammy, you're exhausted from all the magic-makin' you've been doing today. I've got this, I just gotta…" He heaved the man up, careful of the knife still protruding from his shoulder. Then he flipped him over and pinned James's hips to his, carrying the poor aristocrat like he would a bundle of firewood.

"Alright, just gotta go find Baby and Ford in this darkness and then head back to Bobby's." Sam chuckled at how easy Dean made it sound, but traveling with a bleeding man in the dead of night over five miles in the Between Woods was going to be rough. Especially since the brothers had been so busy chasing that one creature that they'd left their usual rounds to recuperate.

"Well, we'd better get going then," Sam replied. So the two set off, one stumbling into trees from exhaustion, the other with an almost-dead man hanging from his arm.

**A/N: Updates every Saturday-Sunday! Reviews appreciated!**


	3. Prince Castiel

"Castiel! Castiel!" The voice echoed through the halls in a hollow and empty note. Castiel pulled his covers over his head and groaned to himself. No doubt, Gabriel would ask for his help evading the guards again. Castiel was not quite keen on that since the last time he'd helped Gabriel, he'd ended up covered in honey and wheat meal. It had taken weeks to get it all out of Castiel's hair.

Regardless of Castiel's reluctance, his brother burst into the room, franticly out of sorts. Rather unusual for Gabriel who was almost always suave and smooth. He didn't bother closing the door, and instead looked around the room hurriedly. Dashing over to the wardrobe, he began speaking, but in such a way that his tongue tied itself in knots. Castiel shuffled himself farther under his blankets, hoping his brother would get whatever it was he needed and leave. Almost as soon as the thought had gone through his head, Gabriel was shouting nonsense and pulling Castiel out of bed by the arms.

"Gabriel!" He grunted as Gabriel dropped him and raced back to the wardrobe, pulling things out and stuffing them into a bag Castiel did not remember his brother bringing in with him. "Gabriel what is going on?" Gabriel stopped his ridiculous show of packing to glare at his little brother. The only answer Castiel got was a pair of trousers and a silk shirt thrown in his face.

"Put those on. Grab anything of sentimental value and get yourself to the stables as fast as your ass will carry you. Understand?" Castiel nodded, but in reality, he did _not_ understand. Gabriel was acting strange and packing Castiel up like he was going on a trip. Alone. That did not bode well, but before Castiel could ask any more questions, Gabriel disappeared back out the door. Castiel sighed to himself and began pulling on his trousers.

They were the plainest pair he owned, yet the most difficult to put on. Anael had made them for him when she first learned to sew clothing a year or two ago. Once the ties that crisscrossed on the outside of the legs were secured correctly, he struggled with his waist cincher and undershirt. He absent-mindedly wondered where Inias was. As many times as he'd refused his servant's help in the past, shirts still gave him an inordinate amount of trouble. He untied the black ribbon around the neck and forced the bottom hem over his shoulders. He noted that this too was one of his less extravagant articles of clothing. He re-tied the throat piece and grabbed a blue brooch. His mother had given it to him on his birthday last year, and he considered it to be "sentimental" as Gabriel had mentioned.

He didn't have many sentimental items, if he was completely honest. Most of the things people gave him were trite and held little value in his mind. They were usually fine pieces of armor or yet another piece of jewelry with his family's crest on it. He glanced around his room once more looking for anything else that he had an attachment to. He felt no surprise when nothing in the dark room caught his eye. This room wasn't even his, not really. It was a room in the castle that happened to have all his possessions in it, but other than that, it looked just like any other of the larger bedrooms. Same mahogany wardrobe, same towering four-poster with heavy white linens, same smoke-tarnished candle holders, same vaulted ceilings, and same basin in the corner. There were no other personal touches.

He grabbed his riding boots and smiled a little to himself. These were much easier to put on than the shirts had been. He knew how these worked. Once he was all done up, he spared a glance out the window and groaned at how early it was. Then he turned towards the exit, blew the candles from last night out, and shut the door as he left his room for the last time.

"Dammit, Gabriel, just tell me what's going on," Castiel pleaded. The sun was just stretching its fingers into the sky, and Castiel tried to make his yawn as angry-sounding as possible.

"No time, Castiel. Oh God, where's Anael?"

"Anael? What's she doing up?"

"She's going to lead you to the gates while I hold them off for a few hours."

"Hold who off?" Castiel had noticed that Gabriel was dressed in his armor, but hadn't said anything. "Did Dema finally declare war? Gabriel!"

"Don't worry about it Cassie," Gabriel said with a tight smile, "Ana will explain it all after you head out. Right now it's just important to get you out of here. Where is she?" He was pacing frantically and muttering to himself. He wasn't wearing the armor's ceremonial wings, and Castiel tried to stop him. He wanted to ask who Gabriel would be "holding off" again, but Anael came running out to them, red hair covered by her hooded dark green cloak. She held a large wicker basket off her left arm and rolled up piece of parchment in her right hand. Their mother would have a conniption if she saw Anael wearing pants and running at the same time. Running was fine, according to Mother, as long as it was in a dress; pants were fine as long as one walked. Mother was strange sometimes.

Castiel snapped himself out of his reverie as Anael approached, shoving the basket into Gabriel's hands and stalking into the stables behind them. Gabriel had already suited both horses up with saddles and bridles. Swinging herself on, Anael spoke with absolute venom.

"How could father do this? He knew they would react violently, yet he still did it! Had it drawn up as an official document, sent down to the archives before either of them had a chance to dispute it!"

"I know, I know, I'll take care of it Ana," Gabriel grumbled. Castiel was completely lost. How his father had the strength to even sit up, let alone write an official decree was beyond him. Their father had the wasting disease, and was slowly sinking into Death's grip. He had maybe a few months left at most and had trouble eating. The people had already begun to mourn for him and hung black banners around the market places.

"Who reacted violently? What official document?"

"Shut up and get on your horse, Cassie." Gabriel used his magic to kick Castiel in the rear, pushing him toward the horse shuffling next to Anael's. Gabriel handed the basket back up to Anael and she shifted it to hang like her saddlebags. Gabriel tossed Castiel a small coin purse and winked before shouting "Hiya!" and magically smacking both horses on the flank. They whinnied and raced out of the stable. When Castiel looked back, Gabriel stood by the swinging doors waving at them. Castiel lifted his arm to wave back before whipping his reins to catch up to Anael.

The cobblestone streets of the market place passed quickest. It was a blessing that they'd started out so early. It was the first market day, so there were no stands in the street yet. The residential area was almost as easy. The only ones awake were the maids and cooks of the wealthier houses, and they mainly stayed inside. It was difficult once they reached the manufacturer's district. The black-smiths woke up early, apparently, as did the tanners and weavers, but they knew to stand back from two racing horses with royalty (or at least nobility, if they couldn't tell that Castiel and Anael were son and daughter of the beloved King).

The real difficulty was the lower quarter. The whole place smelt like smoke and dirt and feces. It was brown. Everything about it was brown. Many of the houses looked about to fall in on themselves, and the "roads" consisted of mud and tree branches. Some homes were black and missing paneling, like a fire had stripped them bare. Women in rags stood on corners either begging for money or offering themselves. Castiel heard Anael click her teeth in frustration as two dirty children with dusty faces raced out in front of her. They had been forced to a slow trot along these places, and garnered many strange looks from the population. These people had no respect for the horses, and Castiel knew it made Aneal upset. It wouldn't have bothered Castiel in any other situation, but knowing now what he did, he was also in quite the hurry to flee.

He wasn't exactly thrilled about where he was headed, but he'd rather the Between Woods than what would be brewing back home at the castle. It must have been about mid-day when Aneal and he reached the Sentries' outpost. They stopped their horses, dismounted, and asked entrance into the large stone façade. One of the lower pages opened it for them and looked completely amazed. He announced their arrival in the common room and a rather lanky man with a protruding nose jumped up and flashed a lop-sided grin at them.

"Gareth of Lower Town," he bowed to them, his scabbard clanking to the floor. He glanced up in embarrassment as he scrambled to retrieve and reattach it to his belt. Anael rolled her eyes and pushed on.

"Anael and Castiel of the Crown. I need you to open the gate."

"O-open the gate, you grace?" Garth gaped, "You know how dangerous that is right?"

"Yes, Gareth of Lower Town," Anael hissed. Castiel gulped at her tone. She could be positively terrifying, and right now she had no patience. "I understand how dangerous it is. I also understand that your princess just gave you an order." Gareth bobbed his head once and scurried off. Anael sighed rubbed her forehead in a gesture of exhaustion.

"It's not every day you pull out the "princess" card Anael," commented Castiel. He did not look at her as he said it, deciding instead to take account of the various members of the sentry instead.

"Today isn't just any day, Castiel, as I believe you understand." Castiel nodded as one of the larger sentries threw a small roll of bread at a page. The page cringed and the group of knighted sentries laughed uproariously. Anael said under her breath, "Disgusting," and Castiel had to agree. He understood living next to the lower quarter must have had some adverse effects, but the way these men treated their subordinates was absolutely deplorable. Gareth, the Main Sentry, seemed nice enough. Castiel figured he must be a push over then. Unfortunate, really. Gareth returned, a scruffy dog following at his heels. He bowed again before reporting.

"It's going to take a while to open the gates. You can wait here or in the hall if you'd like, your majesties."

"How long is a while?" Aneal questioned in her scathing tone.

"Uh," Gareth faltered, "ten to twenty minutes, your grace?"

"Fine. Show us to the hall. I'd rather not take my meal in front of these…" she broke off as one of the armored men burped loudly, "…common folk."

"Yes your grace." The dog barked once in a cheerful manner and followed his master through the common room and into a quieter hall with simple gray arches and a long table.

"Thank you, Gareth. Please retrieve us when the gate is open."

"Of course your grace." He bowed a final time and started toward the exit. When his dog sat next to Castiel, whimpering and tilting his head, Gareth mad a clicking noise and called for him. "Lord Fizzles! Leave the royalty alone. C'mon." The dog whimpered at Castiel once more before turning and trotting back into the common room.

"What an odd man," Castiel said quietly.

"Just another sentry if you ask me," Anael said as she pulled the basket out of nowhere. Castiel sighed in frustration and watched her place dried meats in front of him. He waited until she'd assembled a nice dish of bread, cheese, apples, and beef slices for both of them before beginning. They didn't speak during their meal. There was too much to say.

When Gareth returned, Anael did not even let him speak before rushing out of the hall and through the common room. Castiel glared at all the men brash enough to watch after his sister as he followed, ignoring the ones who looked after him. Gareth had pulled fresh horses for them and a squire was in the process of saddling the second one. Anael shoved him towards the one already prepared, so he mounted and started towards the gate. Anel caught up to him just as he reached the large wooden doors that stood at the same level as the highest turret in the castle. Legend said that the doors had stood since the kingdom was founded, but Castiel doubted that was true. Just another one of those old fairytales.

The two stood in silence looking out at the terrifying expanse of forest that lay only a quarter of a mile away. Castiel had only been out of the city once before to visit his fiancé, one of the princesses of Dema, but there had been a large assembly or guards surrounding the carriage, and his father had been well enough to protect against any of the nasty creatures that lived in the forest. It was daunting and ominous and Castiel had wanted to spend his day researching the well behind the castle and reading about King Raphael. He had wanted to sleep in and eat breakfast late with Gabriel. He'd wanted to listen to Aneal sing after supper and visit his father after coffee. But because his brothers couldn't think rationally, he was now on the run from his own family. The only thing keeping him from getting an ax to the throat at this point was time.

"You remember what I said about your name?"

"My name is James."

"Good. And where are you headed?"

"To find an old friend named Rufus."

"And how long will you be spending there?"

"One week. That will give Gabriel enough time to diffuse Michael and Lucifer."

"Where will we meet?"

"The Roadhouse Tavern, on the first market day of next week at sunset."

Anael handed him the basket, still brimming with food, along with the map that she had drawn on. It would take him the rest of the day and night to reach Old Knight Turner's home. He was about to head off when she turned to him. Her features were soft for the first time today. "Oh, Castiel, I am so sorry this had to be done." Castiel could only nod. It had been a long time since he felt like the little brother. "You had better go, brother. The guards will have spread the word that you are wanted. Go Castiel!"

Castiel pounded his heels into his horse's side twice as she reared with a whinny. Then before he could say goodbye, she darted off through the meadow. Castiel hunched down and waited for the cover of the trees. It didn't take long to reach the Between Forest, but Castiel immediately regretted this plan. There was a strange feeling about the leaves, like the wind was missing. The branches moved on their own, it seemed. Castiel gave it as little thought as possible, focusing on following the red line Anael had drawn. He needed to get to Old Knight Turner's as quickly as he could. The horse jumped over two streams and a felled tree before Castiel met any trouble.

He stopped his horse by a stream to get a drink when he first heard it. The noise was somewhere between a wolf's growl and the rumble of the earth splitting. A tree fell to the forest floor with a crash only a few paces away. Both Castiel and his horse froze by the stream. Castiel stepped back towards his horse as quietly as possible before mounting and racing off again. Luckily the horse was so scared it needed very little prodding. Soon however, the noise came forth again, this time moving with them. Castiel hunched down as low as possible on the horse, hoping to God that he would lose whatever creature had caught hold of their scent. He scrambled with the map for a moment, knowing this would be the absolute worst time to get lost, but horse reared beneath him, and he found himself sliding off it back and onto the hard forest floor. The poor frightened animal neighed violently as it ran farther and farther into the forest. Then everything was quiet.

Castiel stood slowly, still gripping the map in his hand. As he cautiously straightened himself, a twig snapped under his boot and the low growl started up again. Of course whatever this thing was, it couldn't have gone after the horse. No, it had to want Castiel. It was perfect, really, in irony: only having just escaped a death by his brothers' hands, only to die in what was supposed to have been his haven. He took a step backwards. More twigs and leaves crunched underfoot and the growling doubled in volume. Castiel sprinted.

A huge black beast leaped after him from the brush. It was only a little smaller than a horse, but was covered in thick, scraggly fur and had terrible red eyes. It looked almost like a wolf, but Castiel had seen pictures of wolves, studied everything there was to know about them, and knew this was no wolf. Smoke rose off its hackles like they'd been on fire; its presence was almost ethereal shifting in and out as the light changed. It snarled behind him. He had to keep running, so he did. He was lucky, he guessed, with what happened next.

The sound of four bows being shot in unison, then a thump, a whimper and a crash. Castiel whipped his head around to see the creature in the distance had four arrows sticking out of its side and a trip wire caught on its back paw. It whimpered and struggled to stand and Castiel just turned around and kept running. He didn't know who had shot the arrows, or whether or not the wolf-beast would keep chasing after him, but he knew he needed to get as far away from it as possible, and that's what he did. Or at least what he planned to do.

Once he'd figured his new plan out, he felt something snag on his foot, and by the time he'd looked down to examine it, a sharp pain stabbed into his shoulder. He saw the strange contraption, some sort of knife on a long stick that went into the trees, and then passed out.

**A/N: Updates every Saturday-Sunday! Reviews appreciated!**


	4. Novak

Castiel opened his eyes and did not understand. The last thing he remembered was running for his life. He remembered a black wolf chasing him and his horse running off with all his supplies. Now he was staring a thatched ceiling with a low glow emanating from what he assumed to be a small fire crackling to his right. The bed was not as comfortable as the one in the castle, but not entirely unacceptable, either. He closed his eyes hoping that when he opened them again, he'd wake up back home. The brown ceiling greeted him again and he sighed deeply. Then a twinge ran through his shoulder and he groaned. A soft snuffling came from beside him, and then the sound of someone yawning and rising out of a chair followed.

"Good to see you in the land of the living Sir," came a deep sleep-heavy voice. "You cost us quite the catch, so it'd be a shame if you died on us." Castiel tried to sit up, but almost fell off the bed with how much pain coursed through his side. Two hands gently pushed him back into the bed and pulled the covers over him again. "Easy there man. Don't want the stitches to tear now do we?"

"Where am I?" Castiel managed to force out.

"The Between Woods. Robert Singer's place." Castiel couldn't quite focus on the man in from of him or on his surroundings. He just stared at the ceiling and silently cursed everything. He cursed that stupid creature that had almost killed him, he cursed his stupid family for not settling its issues and pushing them on him, he cursed this man who had done nothing but help him. He closed his eyes once more and hoped he never opened them again. The voice came again, louder this time, but not directed at him:

"Sam, you got any more of that weird tea stuff?" Muffled noises and voices called back before getting clearer. A brassy tenor voice joined the rough one in a quick exchange before Castiel felt a cup at his lips and a rather distasteful liquid passing through. He forced the beverage down, recognizing it as the same pain reliever the palace healers used. He coughed a bit once he was finished.

"So, James," the first man spoke, "You wanna tell us what you were doing in hunter territory when you are obviously not a hunter?"

"Dean," the second man chided.

"Hush, Sammy, I wanna know. He cost us a kill."

"I-I need to get to Old Knight Turner's," Castiel said. The two men went silent. Castiel heard their feet shuffling, and then a diluted argument before the first man came back over, told him to "get some more sleep," and then settled back in the chair by his bed.

He woke up again, feeling much better, but still not right. When he moved his arm, there was a strange pull that stung and ached. There was light coming from the window above him, so it must have been morning. He was well enough to sit up and decided to take stock of his environment. He counted two exits, although where they led was still unknown. There was a fireplace across the room and a small pile of logs next to it. There was a creaky-looking chest of drawers at the foot of the bed and a chair near the head rest. The floor was wooden and the walls were stone, but the house had a completely different feel than the castle. The castle was cold and lonely whereas this house seemed warm. The chair beside the bed was empty, and Castiel let himself feel a little disappointed that he was alone. He heard some chickens nearby, as well as a horse snort, but couldn't lift himself high enough in his bed to see out the window. His entire body ached. He was tempted to call out to someone, ask for help and something to eat and pray that whoever had captured him or helped him (he still wasn't sure which it was) would be willing to continue helping him.

He fell back into the covers before he realized someone had striped him. The only thing they had not removed was his pair of under breeches. He groaned quietly before he heard footsteps coming towards him. He felt his heartbeat pick up, ready to fight or flee.

"Hey, fancy-pants. You awake yet?"

Castiel grunted in response before turning to face the man. The view he got was of the man's knees and thighs. This man had the strangest looking legs Castiel had ever seen. He looked up further and saw that the man's face was covered in dirt, much like the children he had seen in the lower quarter. He had a handsome face as far as Castiel could tell behind all that grime; his green eyes stood out from the darkness on his cheeks. Castiel squinted up at this man and sat up once more.

"Whoa, whoa there, you're still not all healed up." Castiel just grunted again and swung his legs out of bed. "James, sir, whatever you wanna be called, as much as I'd love for you to get out of our hair, I can't let you get up just yet okay? So lie back down and let Sam get you something to drink. How's that sound?" Castiel ignored him and used his hands to push off the bed. That was a mistake. His legs refused to hold his weight and he tumbled into this man's arms before trying to push him away. Instead, the man gripped his forearms tightly and hefted back into the bed.

"Shit, you tore the stitches," he complained. Castiel winced as he brushed his thumb over the raw wound. "You stay right here, you hear me?" Castiel nodded and the man left. A vague passing thought about running away passed through his mind before he remembered he couldn't stand yet. He must still be a little delirious, he thought to himself. When the man returned with a jug and what looked to be some sort of animal tendon, Castiel groaned and rolled over so that his wound bled into the sheets. He yelped when the man pressed on the other wound which apparently existed on his back. He rolled back around to glare at his captor. The man just shrugged and gave a small smile. He poured a little of the alcohol out of the jug and Castiel winced as it made contact.

"Name's Dean, by the way."

"Humph?"

"My name. Dean. In case you were wondering." Castiel just grunted again. Dean was about to string the tendon into a needle and Castiel growled in disapproval.

"Wash your hands first, you slob!" Dean looked visibly shaken for a moment before grinning and getting up to do as Castiel asked.

"Your voice always sound like that?" he asked from the wash basin as he lathered his hands in animal fat. Castiel grit his teeth to prevent him from answering. "Sorry, didn't mean to embarrass you, Jimmy. Is it alright if I call you Jimmy?" This man was obviously trying to bait Castiel into giving away information of some kind.

"Call me what you like." The hunter sat down again, with clean hands, and began threading the needle.

"I'm assuming you've had stitches before?" he asked.

"Once."

Dean gawked, like the idea that someone had only had one set of stitches was the most shocking thing he'd ever heard. He shook his head ad pursed his lips before nodding. "Well this is gonna hurt like a bitch then. Try not to go ripping these like you did with these ones," he said tugging the old stitches out with his free hand. Castiel winced, but made no noise. The first stitch hurt about as much as the second, but after that it became normal. It was route and memory.

"Where are my clothes?"

"Right here," he nodded towards the floor, "shirt's in the rag pile though. Soaked through with blood. The pants were terrible to get off, but that corset you were wearing, Jesus, that was awful." Dean put in another stich and glanced up at him with a grin.

"I wasn't wearing a corset," Castiel spat out.

"What do you call his then?" Dean leaned down, still holding the needle and picked up Castiel's waist cincher. Castiel felt his face heat up when he realized that Dean must have been the one to undress him. "Aww, Jimmy, no need to get flustered! You're not the first guy I've seen in his skivvies so no need for all that," Dean smirked. Castiel hated him. Castiel wanted to ram his sword down this man's throat.

"Where is my sword?"

"You mean the one that's never been used?" Castiel grit his teeth. It had been used. He trained almost every day, but only with dummies. The blade was still as sharp as when it had first been forged. "Don't worry, it's right here too." Dean moved his foot and Castiel heard a scratching noise from the floor. Dean tied the final knot in the stitches then leaned forward to bite the tendon and snap the thread. Cas grit his teeth and decided gratitude would be in order.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "for that."

"No problem. Actually, there's no need to thank us. It's our fault anyways." Castiel looked up at the man's face. He looked a little embarrassed through his painted-on smile.

"I don't understand."

"Well, we set up a whole bunch of traps a few months ago and hadn't been by to check up on them. Been busy. So we kind of feel responsible for you now. And given you pass the test, we'll even help you get to Old Knight Turner's," Dean finished with a wink.

"You keep saying 'We'. Why? Who else is there?"

Dean leaned away and yelled, "Hey Sammy! Noble's up! Wanna get him some grub?" A huge monster of a man appeared a few moments later with some bread and cheese. This man's hair was much longer than Dean's and tied back in a leather thong. His eyes were much deeper set, and Castiel could feel the aura radiating off of him like he could with his siblings.

"It's good to see you're up, Lord Novak." He bowed before placing the plate in Castiel's lap. The prince almost faltered when he remembered the alias Anael had given him just before they'd reached the Sentry Outpost. He took the plate graciously and ate with as much elegance as he could muster.

"How long have I been here?"

"It's mid-day on the third market day." A day. Castiel had lost a whole day and a half. Old Knight Turner was expecting him two nights ago. Castiel groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"So Jimmy," Dean asked seriously, "just what exactly do you need to see Old Knight Turner for?"

"Dean!" Sam interjected.

"I hardly think that's any of your business," Castiel replied smoothly. Dean continued staring at him, so he stared back. Only when Sam coughed did they break eye contact.

"I think we should let Lord Novak eat in peace, Dean," Sam suggested as he pulled dean up by the arm and led him out of the room. Castiel was secretly grateful. Maybe these two weren't so bad. Or at least, Sam wasn't so bad.

"Look, I'm not saying we shouldn't help him Dean, I'm just saying that his facts don't check out. I spent all last night researching the Novak family." Sam sat on his chopping block watching his brother swing his ax down, and then pick up a new log. Dean stood straight passing a hand through his hair.

"And?"

"The Novaks were the first humans to marry into the royal family after Raphael's death nearly a century ago. They don't exist anymore."

"So the guy doesn't want us to know who he is. Not surprising since he's obviously on the run."

"We can't just show him where Rufus lives without knowing what he wants!" Sam said as he stood.

"Don't see why not."

"He could attack Rufus! Kill him even!"

"Aw, Rufus can hold his own. Besides, did you see the condition of that blade? Barely used, Sammy. Wouldn't be surprised if the guy can't even draw it right." Dean smacked his ax through the wood on his chopping block.

"So you're suggesting we trust this stranger, who claims to be part of a long assimilated noble family and wants to see our friend, one of our only friends, just like that?" Sam couldn't believe his brother. He crossed his arms and pursed his lips. Dean rolled his eyes and picked up another log.

"God, no! I'm just saying I feel a little responsible for his injuries, is all. We patch him up, drop him at Turner's then head to the city to nab that evil son of a bitch we lost earlier."

"Dean, why on earth do you feel responsible for him? He's not even supposed to be out here! He brought this on himself."

"Don't even start! I saw you use you magic to stop the bleeding, Sammy. You feel just as guilty as I do, you ass."

"That's not important. What is important is that you're willing to let that thing get a three day head start on us. It's gonna kill people, Dean. Good innocent people. I say we leave the guy here with Bobby, and go after it. He can wait." When Dean didn't answer, Sam smirked, certain he'd won. Dean chopped another two logs before throwing his ax down and removing his gloves.

"I sent Bobby to track it this morning. We're taking Jimmy to Rufus."

"Damn it, Dean." Dean just shrugged. He'd seen this coming so he took reasonable precaution. Sam paced and Dean rubbed his palms together. "You know I'm right," Sam stabbed an accusing finger at his brother, "Why won't you listen?" His anger dropped and a smug smile took its place. "You like him." Dean rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Oh no, my deepest darkest secret. You've discovered it," Dean admitted sarcastically, "C'mon, Sammy really? Just because he's attractive doesn't mean I'm gonna sleep with him."

"Seriously?" Sam cringed.

"Yeah. Besides, you see those eye daggers he was sending my way. The man hates me, and with good reason."

"Not to mention the fact that he's well-bred and you're…" Sam gestured up and down at his brother, trying to hide his smile.

"Thanks, Sam. I can always count on you to help boost the old self-esteem."

"Any time, brother. It's what I'm here for."

"Now shut up and chop some wood. I'm gonna go make some food."

"Don't forget my salad this time, you jerk!"

Dean just laughed as he opened the door. He never "forgot" Sam's salads. He chose not to make them.

**A/N: Updates every Saturday-Sunday! Reviews appreciated!**


	5. Healed Wounds

Castiel had met the man the younger hunters called Bobby that morning. In terms of his first impression, the prince found him to be a scraggly old man with an unkempt beard and an even less kept mind. But when the man spoke, he had a gruff authority and unerring logic about him. This crotchety man had forced him to drink some water, thrown salt on him, then taken his arm and cut him with a small blade before nodding at Sam and Dean and leaving the room. From what Dean had said about him, Castiel assumed that Bobby had at one point been a hunter as well, but now lived in solitude with the creatures he'd hunted for decades. Castiel had read of hunters who became so attached to their livelihood that they just couldn't let it go, even after their body gave it up. After Sam patched up the cut on his arm, Dean had sat in the chair with a stake and a knife and begun to whittle. Castiel turned over and went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, Dean was making an absolute racket in a nearby room. Although his muscles protested, Castiel sat up and leaned forward to see through the door next to the fireplace. It was a large kitchen, another window over what looked like a wash basin and spices hanging in bundles tied to the ceiling beams. Dean was doing something; Castiel didn't know if it was cooking or cleaning or what he was doing, but he wasn't sure he cared. He still needed to get to Old Knight Turner's. He leaned over with a quiet grunt to grab his pants and belt from the floor. When he'd finished struggling with those and ignoring the small stains from errant drops of dried blood, he tried to stand up.

"Well Look at that. Sleeping Beauty's finally awake." Castiel could have glared at the man in front of him for using that particular nick-name. When Gabriel had discovered Castiel's childhood love of fairy tales, he'd immediately begun to use the name Aurora at every possible moment. In fact, since Castiel never grew out of his grumpy morning face, Gabriel never grew out of using it to tease him. "Made some rabbit if you want mid-day meal," Dean said holding out a small plate of meat. Castiel wanted to hesitate, but couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Thank you," he muttered before he began to eat.

"No problem, princess." Castiel froze for a moment, thinking he'd been caught. But the way Dean just sauntered back into the kitchen with his ridiculously bowed legs didn't show any sort of ill-will or understanding. Sighing, Castiel allowed himself to relax again, passing it off as one of Dean's creative nick-names. He heard the hunter call for his brother through the window in the kitchen, and then some eager stomping as Sam cleaned the mud off his boots.

"Dean! What did I tell you about the salad?!"

"Oops, I forgot," Dean didn't sound too sorry though. The two brothers walked back into Castiel's room and each pulled a chair up to his bedside. They stared at him for a while, neither touching their plate of rabbit. Castiel had already finished most of his, amazed that a brute like Dean had been able to make such fancy-tasting dish of meat.

"Is something the matter?" he finally asked. The brothers looked at each other and Dean shrugged, giving Sam the job of speaking. The tall man let out a long-suffering sigh but began anyway.

"Look, James. We know you're not who you say you are," he started. Castiel's eyes shot open, and his shoulders tensed. So Dean had figured it out. He mentally went through everything he'd need to do before he'd be able to make it out of the house. He'd have to incapacitate the hunters, gather the rest of his belongings, steal a shirt, find his map, and "borrow" enough rations to last him the next week or so. Sam went on like he didn't see the injured man going through a silent checklist. "But we figure you've got your secrets, and there's no need for us to be going through your business. We just want to know a few things before we help you over to Rufus's. That sound fair?" Castiel clenched his jaw and nodded slowly. He let a small amount of the tension in his body uncoil.

"Alright," Dean said around his first bite of rabbit, "Why do you need Turner's help?"

"I'm wanted for unjust reasons."

"By who?"

"Killers," Castiel said carefully. Dean rolled his eyes and kept chewing.

"You're gonna have to give us more than that James. Rufus is a friend of ours, and needless to say, we don't want to see him get hurt," Sam delegated.

"Especially in his old age," Dean smirked. Sam hit him in the shoulder in an off-handed manner. Castiel took a moment trying to think of how much he could reveal without endangering himself. Everything had gone so far off the path Anael had set before him. He shook his head.

"It's a family matter." The two hunters said nothing, only leaned in closer, like they were expecting a story. Castiel steeled himself and prayed that he was making the right choice. "My father is quite ill, and has recently drawn up a will. My older brothers assumed they would receive the inheritance, but apparently, my father thought it would be a good idea to give everything to me."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Dean stopped him, "Are you trying to tell us that your brothers are the ones who are after you? They're the ones trying to _kill_ you? Over an _inheritance_? Man, I thought our family was messed up," he smirked as he leaned back in his chair and gave a little chuckle. Sam bit his bottom lip and thought for a moment.

"And you had to leave the kingdom? Why are you headed to Turner's place?"

"My, uh, my family is quite prevalent in the kingdom. My brothers will no doubt have a figure on my head." He stumbled over it, hoping the hunters wouldn't turn him in. That was just as bad as ransom in Castiel's mind. He'd read enough to know of the hunter archetype: money-hungry peasants who happened to live in the Between Woods and happen to be handy with a blade. He regretted it as soon as he said it. Strangely enough, neither man seemed to jump at the chance. Castiel took that as a good sign. "Old Knight Turner is a friend of the family. I was supposed to find him three days ago. Then on the first market day I was supposed to return and find my sister so she could take me home."

Dean nodded as he listened, but Sam still had his lips pressed in a firm line. Castiel looked back down at his empty plate and squinted, trying to think of a way to convince Sam that he was telling as much of the truth as he could.

"Alright," the bigger hunter finally said as he stood, "We'll get you to Old Knight Turner's. But first we gotta heal you up the rest of the way. Dean you think you can grab me the venison from second market day?" Dean was up in a second and out of the room. Sam just muttered under his breath, "I swear, give him a pretty face and he'll do whatever you want." Castiel scrunched his face up trying to understand.

"Did you say something?"

"What? No, I didn't," Sam said quickly. "Now have you ever been healed with magic before?"

"Yes, often."

"Good then you already know this is going to happen, right?" Castiel nodded curtly, willing Sam to just get on with it. "We're gonna be holed up here for a while, unfortunately." Sam almost looked embarrassed. Castiel cocked his head. His brothers and Anael had healed worse wounds with only a brush of the hand. "I'm, uh, I'm still learning," Sam admitted, stuffing the rest of his rabbit down his face. "I mean, I know how to heal, so don't worry about growing a third arm or anything, but it takes a lot out of me." Castiel nodded slowly, not feeling much better about this whole thing. Dean came back a little later with a heaping pile of meat, which he handed to Sam with a clap on the back.

"Get eating, little brother. We got a lot to do today!" Sam rolled his eyes and started picking through the meat. He looked like he'd done this a few times before and hated every second of it. Castiel would have felt bad if he'd cared. It seemed like he could trust these men, even if he didn't particularly like either of them.

The healing process was not a fun one. Once Sam had finished Castiel's body ached worse than before. Sam didn't look much better. The job was sloppy too. It left a pale scar over where the stitches had been. When Gabriel or Anael or Ezekiel healed him, there was never any hint of previous injury, just smooth skin and new flesh. Castiel figured this was the best he was going to get under the circumstances, so he said nothing. Sam stood on shaky legs, and Dean caught him before he toppled over.

"You," he pointed at Castiel, "sleep." Then the hunters left him to disappear into another room. Castiel didn't need to be told twice. Sam had probably pooled their energies, like many beginners did, and healing took a lot of stamina as it was one of the most complicated types of magic.

When he woke up a few hours later, Dean was sitting in his usual place by the bedside. He was…reading, strangely enough. Dean had not struck him as the bookish type, yet there he was, so engrossed in the parchments that he didn't notice Castiel's shifting.

"What are you reading?" Dean nearly jumped out of his skin at the question before taking a calming breath.

"Give a guy some warning would you, Jim?"

"Apologies." Castiel sat up in bed, his pants catching uncomfortably on his scabbard. He cursed himself for putting it on earlier, not that the hunters seemed to think he'd actually use it.

"Revelations," Dean mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"I'm reading Revelations." Castiel squinted up at him in confusion. "What? You got a problem with me reading the Good Book?" Dean almost sounded amused.

"Not at all. You just don't strike me as the God-fearing type."

"Don't get me wrong, if the Big Guy exists, that's fantastic, but it's kinda hard to have faith when you're surrounded by his abominations your whole life."

"Yet you're reading his book."

"Research, Jimmy, research." Dean smirked and went back to roaming the pages of his book. Castiel didn't like how quiet the house was. Someone, probably Dean, had started the fire again and all this time in bed was making him restless and tired at the same time. He needed interaction, and the only person close enough was the brutish hunter.

"Is Sam alright?"

"Umhm."

"I, uh, I regret being the reason he's so fatigued." Castiel was not well-versed in apologies, but he thought he'd done at least an alright job of it. His thoughts dissipated when Dean peered around his book in disbelief.

"Then stop. We owe you so there's no need for you to "regret" anything. Well, I mean if I were you, I'd regret walking into the Between Woods unprepared and on foot, but to each his own." Dean shrugged.

"I didn't just wander in without supplies," Castiel growled, and Dean's eyebrows shot up. "My horse reared when this creature appeared out of nowhere and began chasing me. I had a week's worth of food and water along with enough money to purchase a small mansion. I was hardly ill-prepared," Castiel ranted. Dean folded his book closed and acted very interested, nodding and letting Castiel go on.

When the prince was finished, Dean just leaned in and said in a voice that assumed Castiel was a child, "Only soldiers are prepared for the forest. Are you a soldier?"

"N-no?"

"Then you weren't prepared," Dean deadpanned. "Whose grand idea was it to throw a princess to the wolves like that? Surely it wasn't yours, no offense."

"No, it was my brother's I believe."

"Wait the ones who want to kill you? I thought-" His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion. Castiel cut him off.

"I have several brothers. Only two want me dead. I think."

"Jesus. Big family, huh?"

"Yes well, our parents wanted-" Castiel froze mid-sentence, wondering how much Dean actually knew. He swallowed and closed himself off with a quick, "Never mind."

"You really are scared of us kidnapping you, aren't you?"

"I feel it's a legitimate fear, yes."

"It's not, but whatever. I mean, if your brothers are so set on having your head on a silver platter, why would you think they'd pay up? Even if Sam and I were the kidnapping type, which we're not, it wouldn't be profitable for us, and then there's this bloody mess to clean up and, well, you get the picture."

"Despite what you might think," Castiel said with no humor, "there are still people who'd be willing to pay for me."

"Now you just sound like a hooker." Castiel spluttered and frowned. Dean chuckled before saying, "Oh, sorry princess, that's probably insulting to you, isn't it? I mean no offense." He was obviously teasing him now. Castiel just glared at him for a long moment. When Dean didn't shirk like the servants at home did under his careful gaze, he looked away.

"You're a rather brash individual, aren't you?" Castiel hissed under his breath.

"I take that as a compliment, Jimmy." Dean smiled to himself before cracking his book back open and perusing for his spot. Castiel felt like being petulant.

"So when are we leaving?" Dean sighed and put his book back in his lap.

"Tomorrow morning, if all goes well. We'll reach Old Knight Turner's by sun down. Then he can help you the rest of the way back to the city or whatever."

"Well, if you won't take my apology, you can at least have my gratitude."

"Sure. If that's what you want. And if you won't take our loyalty, you can at least take a shirt."

"What?"

"Well, you've been in my bed for two days, eating our food, and taking our energy, but you keep glaring daggers at me and my brother, so please, do me the kindness of just covering yourself, man." He couldn't tell if Dean was joking or being serious at first, but the pull at the corner of his mouth made Castiel clam up. He swallowed thickly before Dean stood abruptly and walked out of the room. When he returned he tossed a shirt at Castiel, who caught it weakly. He bent over the edge of the bed to grab his waist cincher and struggled to untangle the cords on the back.

"Jim, I hate to ask, but what's with the lady's underwear?"

"What are you talking about?"

"A corset? Seriously?"

"It's not a corset, it's a waist cincher. It keeps posture," was all Castiel could say as he pulled fruitlessly at the knot. "Who did this?" he asked accusingly, shaking the garment of fabric and bone.

"Well you were losing body heat pretty fast after the ride here, so we had to strip you, and that meant whatever that thing is," Dean said pointing at it. "It was a bitch to get off, let me tell you. I've taken off plenty of corsets, but that one was a challenge." He laughed when he saw Castiel's look of horror.

"Well you did a terrible job." The prince finally managed to get the knot out and slipped the thing over his shoulders, wincing at the soreness in his back.

"Then I won't ask to lace it up," was all Dean said in reply. Castiel rolled his eyes as he tightened it again and began to twist it so it faced the right way. He was still not as proficient at dressing himself as he probably should have been, but he was determined _not_ to ask for Dean's help. He pulled the shirt over his chest and looked down at how plain it was.

"It's a hand-me-down," Dean explained, scratching his neck absent-mindedly.

"A what?"

"Well, I mean, it used to be mine, and then it was Sam's, and now it's yours."

"Dean I don't need any more garments," he said as he thought of what his mother would say if she saw him in a commoner's clothes. She'd probably die of shock. Castiel almost smiled.

"Yeah, well it doesn't fit me anymore and it certainly doesn't fit Sammy, and you need a shirt or Rufus will throw a fit, so," he shrugged, "you do the math."

"What math?" Castiel asked. Dean just looked at him like he had started speaking another language. Then he shook his head and sat back down.

"So this creature…" Dean was suddenly serious, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his laced fingers, "What did it look like?"

"The one that attacked me?" Dean nodded. "A deformed wolf."

"Color?"

"Black."

"Catch its paw size?"

"What?"

"Well, certain creatures have different paw sizes, you know?" He shook his head. "It helps with tracking, but never mind. What about eye color? Were they white? Or black?"

"Red."

"Red…" Dean pondered. He repeated the color a few more times, thinking deeply about it before Castiel spoke up again.

"It was strange, it seemed to balance on the edge of my perception, like it existed, but not entirely, do you understand?"

Dean said nothing; he simply shot up and began tracing a finger over the spines in the book shelf hanging facing the bed. He pulled out a rather thick red book, blew some dust off it and settled back into his chair. He was about to open it and resume reading when he stopped, smirked, and went back to the book shelf. "You're pretty bored. That's why you're talking to me, right?"

Castiel didn't answer. If he agreed, he was being rude, no matter how true it was; but if he lied, he'd have to think up another reason for engaging the hunter, and he wasn't quite up to that yet. Luckily, Dean didn't give him time to think too hard. "Well, I think I've got the perfect book for you to pass the time with, princess." He stood and tossed a brown leather book at him. It thumped on the sheets and Castiel picked it up to read the title. The book was so old, however, that the gold leaf had been worn beyond legibility, so he opened it and almost threw the book when he saw the title. _The Collection of Children's Fairy Tales. _Castiel's hands shook as he turned the page. How long had it been since he'd looked at this book? He'd refused to touch it after his last visit to these woods. Dean coughed awkwardly.

"You really gonna read that?" he asked.

"If you don't mind," Castiel said hoping his voice wouldn't break. He didn't understand why he was getting so emotional over a book. But he turned the well-loved pages and looked at the gruff man sitting beside him. "Dean, is this…is this book yours?"

"Yeah, used to be my favorite book when I was little. Used to make my mom read from it every night before I went to bed." Dean nodded and his eyes looked far away for a moment. Castiel quietly thanked him and flipped quickly to page eighty-seven. There were no illuminations in this copy, and the handwriting was very different. Less embellished, with fewer curves, but the fact that the stories hadn't changed made something in his bones ache. He settled down and got comfortable as he began to read.

**A/N: Updates every Saturday and Sunday! Reviews are appreciated!**


	6. Dried Meat and Gruel

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke with a start. Dean was shouting at something, and there was more banging in the kitchen than there needed to be at this hour. The book slid off the bed with a thump and Castiel scrambled to save it. He only ended up getting caught in the coarse white sheets on Dean's bed. He grunted to himself in frustration as he attempted to extract himself. His feet felt strange when they hit the wooden floor, like they were too rounded to stand on. As he leaned to pick up the book, his back popped in several places, very satisfying, he decided. He glanced at the open anthology in his hands and flipped through the pages carelessly. He was just about to close it when something on the inner front cover caught his eye. A scratchy, childish hand had scrawled something there. It took a moment for Castiel it must have been Dean's attempt at claiming ownership of the book years ago. If he squinted hard enough, he could just make out the "D" and the "E". The rest was lost to lack of practice and education.

Dean was still shouting, his invectives followed by a crash and the tinkling of glass. Castiel's head was still too cloudy to try and understand it. He decided to try and get up rather than put his head back to the pillow. They had to leave early, and Castiel wanted to get to Old Knight Turner's as quickly as possible. He yawned before pushing himself to his feet. When he tumbled forward he let out a less than regal yelp. He could hear Dean laughing at him.

"Oh, so Sleeping Beauty finally shows her face," he heard Dean's voice float in from the kitchen. Except maybe "float" wasn't the word for it. Dean's voice was low and gravely, so it must have rolled in, pushed its way through the air. "And I didn't even have to kiss her!" Dean laughed. Sam's voice joined his and something else clunked and rattled against something else. Castiel struggled to his feet and tried his best to place one foot before the other and make his way to the kitchen. He silently condemned the three days of bed rest.

"Hey James, how are you feeling?" Sam stood at an open cabinet. He was dressed in a brown tunic and white trousers. Over his tunic was a small caplet of mail. He looked half asleep as he pulled things down and placed them where Dean could get to them. Dean was gathering everything from peach preserves to spice bundles and loading them into leather saddle bags. He was in a thin white shirt under a green fitted vest. The shirt seemed to be missing a sleeve (which revealed he was also wearing mail) and showed its ratty edge under the bottom hem of the vest. A pelt hung on his hip, and to Castiel's alarm, he had a knife holstered to his thigh over his burlap trousers.

"I've been better," Castiel said slowly, eyes lingering Sam's brother, "but I've been worse," he said as he finally faced Sam. He noticed the taller man's jaw clench, but the hunter nodded anyway.

"Hey Jim, you wanna grab that bundle over there?" Dean asked as he jerked his head at the old wood counter. The only bundle on it was a rather unsettling collection of bones tied with twine. He shuffled over and picked it up with a shudder before quickly handing it to Dean. "And there's some pelts in the lower cabinets if you could grab those." Dean pointed at some more small doors near the ground. Castiel felt awkward as he tried to figure out the best way to access them in the small kitchen. Finally he just decided to sit. That would be easier on his feet anyway. He was not expecting the avalanche of furs that awaited him. They practically burst out of their place like they were still alive. There were all sorts from what Castiel could see; brown, black, tri-colored, stripped, mottled, thick, soft, coarse.

He was marveling at them intensely when Dean whistled for his attention, then made grabby hands. Castiel did his best to fold and hand each fur to him before Dean rolled his eyes, grabbed most of them and unceremoniously shoved them into another saddle bag. Then, abandoning his previous station, Sam grabbed the filled bags and headed outside, into the dark morning. Castiel didn't want to think about what the Woods had running around at this time. He didn't have much time to linger on the issue before there was a brown bag in his face. Dean held it out to him impatiently.

"C'mon princess. Time to saddle up."

Dean had gotten Baby and Ford all ready for the trip before Sam had gotten up. They had come to the joint-decision that eating on the road would be easier and quicker than cooking up something in Bobby's kitchen. Dean ignored the old mule, Jalopy, that Bobby kept for tilling in the spring time. She was good and sturdy, but almost as stubborn as Dean, and Rufus would throw a fit if they left her in his stables when they left James with him. As they'd packed, Sam and Dean had discussed the best way to finish off their hunt. If they were lucky, _really_ lucky, it wouldn't have breached Celeta's walls yet. Chances were slim, so they had formulated a backup plan.

They'd been having a hard time of packing, or at least Sam had been. He was obviously still half asleep and kept placing things half off the wooden counter. Dean had been lucky just to catch them before they fell, if he caught them at all. A particularly loud crash of preserves must have woken Jim up, because only a few moments later he appeared in the kitchen looking less awake than Sam. Dean couldn't help but appreciate his bed head and hid a smirk with a request for the vampire bones he stood next to.

After taking all the furs from Jim, he waited for the noble accept a saddle bag. The poor man hesitated at the door, and nervously glanced at the darkness outside the windows.

"Jim, c'mon. You're gonna be fine. Sammy and I are the best hunters in this God-forsaken forest. You got nothing to worry about," Dean said from the front step. He was rearing to go, and the stupidly attractive noble was slowing him down. The dark-haired man just looked at him through squinted eyes. He left James to ponder his options for a while. He didn't blame the guy for his fear; the forest was brutal, and after what he'd been through, well, Dean was glad it hadn't been him in the fancy bicolored riding boots. Sam was loading Ford up with all the food they'd need for the next two weeks, plus some for trading on the market days along with the weapons and magic items. The younger brother headed back inside for their armor before emerging and tossing Dean's at him. Sam quickly fastened his brassards to his forearms and greaves over his boots. How he managed to tie his silver gorget over his throat amazed Castiel. Dean put on his knee lame first before slipping his arm through his

couter and fixing the pauldron on his shoulder. Sam appeared by his side to fasten the thick leather straps over the vest. James suddenly seemed extremely vulnerable. Dean would have said something if there had been any spare armor, but if all went right, it wouldn't matter anyway.

Dean picked up his saddle bag, threw it over Baby's rear, and fastened it to her saddle. He was only in charge of the skins and furs since Sam and he had decided that James should ride with Dean. Baby was a broader, stronger horse than Ford. She could handle a second rider. Dean was just finishing up tying the bags when James appeared behind him.

"Jesus, shit!" James gave him a rude look as he gestured to the bag in his hand. Dean ran a hand over his face before taking the bag and calling for Sam. "Catch," he said as he tossed the bag. Even in the dark and his half-sleep-drunk mood, Sam caught it just fine.

"Alright, princess, you're riding with me. Front or back?" Jim clenched his jaw and drew his eyebrows together.

"What?"

"You wanna ride front or back of the horse?" Dean repeated. Sam choked a laugh down and Dean threw him a dirty look which was lost in the darkness of morning. When Jim only seemed more confused, Dean tried to explain it again. "Look, you can either ride behind me, or you can sit up front, and I'll be behind you." As he said it, he realized just how bad of an idea that would be. "Screw it, you're sitting in the back."

"Screw_ him_," Sam corrected. Dean cursed at his brother as he stepped up and threw his leg over Baby's back. He moved his leg out of the way and waited for Jim to take his mount too, but the pressure in the stirrup didn't come. Dean looked down to see the man shifting from side to side awkwardly.

"Oh, come on," Dean groused as he threw his hand out. He wiggled his fingers to let James know he was supposed to take the gloved hand in front of him. It took a moment, but he finally understood and let Dean help him up. Dean quietly enjoyed having the other man behind him. James shivered in the coolness of the morning as the hunter in front of him snapped the reins and set off.

Castiel would have been lying if he'd said the Between Woods were terrible. Even after his bloody ordeal, he had to admit that the colorful treetops and monochrome trunks and bushes and brush were certainly picturesque. But there was something about the woods that made him uneasy. He finally decided it was because every twitch in the leaves could be something that wanted him dead. Dean must have sensed his unease because he talked a lot during the trip. Even as they at morning meal he continued his one-sided conversation. Every once in a while Sam would offer tidbits and anecdotes.

They crossed about three old dilapidated bridges before Dean's shoulders froze up, and his riding gait grew stiffer. His voice shifted to a gruff whisper and he pulled a sword from his side. "We're heading into werewolf territory, so it's best to stay quiet."

Castiel had barely said anything since they'd left, more content to listen to Dean's voice roll through his stories, but he took heed of the warning regardless. Was what ambushed him earlier a werewolf? It seemed likely to him, but he couldn't ask now. He hunched behind Dean's form and hoped to God that they didn't run into anything like that. He just wanted to get to Old Knight Turner's. That was all he'd wanted.

About an hour later, Sam and Dean pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted. Dean leaned back, his fingers laced together and stretched high above his head. He gave a satisfied grunt when his back popped thrice. Castiel dropped off Baby's back as well and kept his voice at a whisper.

"Why are we stopping?"

"Shit man, I gotta take a leak," Dean replied as he stalked off.

"We're out of the werewolves' land; we thought it'd be a good idea to take a break. I'm assuming your legs are a little sore?" Castiel nodded and decided Sam was right. He walked around the small clearing to get some fresh blood into his weak legs. When Dean returned, Sam threw him some dried meat and left in the direction his brother had come from. Dean yanked his head to remove a bite off his mid-day provisions.

"We're a little ahead of schedule." Castiel nodded. "That means we'll probably get there before nightfall which is perfect."

"I appreciate your help, Dean."

"Yeah, well, I still feel a little guilty about it, and I won't stop until you're safe with Rufus. You hungry?"

"Uh," his mother had impressed her 'no stuttering' rule on him since he could speak, but for some reason, he found his hesitance justified, "what does it taste like?" Dean's eyebrows shot up as he chewed.

"What? You've never had dried meat?"

"No. Everything I eat is cooked just before meal times."

"Good life," the hunter mused as he rummaged through the bags on Sam's horse. He pulled out another bundle of dried leathery looking meats and tossed a small strip to Castiel. "It's beef. I think."

Castiel held it for a moment before placing a small piece between his teeth and trying to chew a bit off. Dean snickered at him when his nose scrunched up. It felt like leather and he just couldn't manage to tear off the piece in his mouth. He stopped trying and pulled the half chewed thing from his jaw. He was a bit embarrassed at how unmannered it must seem, but that vanished to Dean's peals of laughter.

"No, listen," he managed through his amusement, "Bite down hard and then tear it. That's the fun of eating dried stuff." Castiel had never thought eating to be fun, with all the rules and manners he was supposed to keep in mind at every family or royal meal. He did as Dean had told him though, trusting this man more than he knew he should have. It worked. Dean gave him a lop-sided smile before continuing on his own piece and shouting at Sam to hurry up before he ate all the cherry preserves. Castiel had to say that the dried meat was an experience. It was smoky and spicy and very different to anything the palace cooks had ever prepared for him. After a few tough chews, the meat took on a slightly sweet flavor. He swallowed and took another bite, not hesitating to tear.

Sam stomped back into the clearing and demanded Dean put the cherries down. Instead, Dean just chucked them at his brother, laughing as Sam fumbled with the glass jar.

"Take it easy, Sam. Have some cherries."

"Dean these are for trading! I can't barter with this jar now!" Dean just shrugged and started rummaging in Ford's saddle again. Sam rolled his eyes when Dean's hand emerged clutching a jar of orange viscous liquid.

"Put the marmalade back, Dean."

"I made it, I get some of it," Dean was definitely not pouting. This stuff had taken an entire day to make, and he'd only ended up with ten or so jars. It was a rather popular trading item though, and always ended up getting snapped up on the rare occasion the brothers made an appearance at the market. Just once, Dean wanted to have a whole jar to himself. He deserved it.

"Dean! Do you want marmalade or do you want bread?" Dean groaned before conceding, throwing the jar back into the bag and pulling out a fresh apple instead. He took a bite then passed it to Sam who finished it off just as James finished his piece of jerky. "Alright, you two ready to saddle up again?" Sam tied his hair up in a small pony-tail as he asked.

"Let's go," Dean replied as he headed back to Baby. He hopped back up and didn't even have to wait for James to hop up behind him. They set off at a different angle than they had come from, towards the sound of rushing water.

Castiel was amazed at how long it took to find the source of the sound. After an hour, it had sounded like they hadn't even gotten a meter closer to the water. He began to wonder if the men were leading him in circles, yet none of the trees looked familiar. Then again, they knew the forest better than he did. They must be wily little money grabbers. Soon however, the sound of water crashing into itself grew steadily louder until it was almost too loud to think. Sam led the trio into another clearing, this one larger and much greener than the last, with a river of amazing size running through the center. There was a tall rocky cliff and threatening waterfall that tumbled over it, whiting out at the base and casting a hazy rainbow over the clearing.

Sam hopped off his horse and got the canteen and empty wine skins out of a bag. Dean began directing Baby towards the edge of the waterfall. Castiel was about to grab Dean, warning him about treading into the terrible crushing force of the waterfall, but saw a sliver of land just big enough for a horse behind the flowing curtain of clear water.

A cave. There was a cave behind the waterfall. Just like in every adventure novel he'd ever had the chance to read, there was a gaping hole waiting to envelope them and keep them from the eyes of any forest monsters. They daylight disappeared as Baby meandered in, her hooves changing from soft thumps on grass to clicks on solid stone. Dean stopped her once it got too dark to see ahead. Castiel was still having a hard time hearing anything over the raging waters behind him, but Dean's breathing was easier to distinguish as they got further. Sam followed after them a few minutes later, holding all sorts of sloshing containers. He had a lit torch in hand.

No one said anything for a while as they slowly let the waterfall silence itself in the dank air of the cave. It must have been another hour before Sam stopped again for another meal. He pulled out a bowl and mixed what looked like some wheat meal with some of the fresh water from the river and mixed it well until it made a bland brownish glop.

"You'd better put some bacon on that," Dean warned. Sam rolled his eyes, but obliged after some searching through their bags. Sam took a few spoonfuls for himself before handing the bowl and utensil to Dean, who also took some before passing it back over his shoulder to Castiel. The prince looked at the watery sludge in the wooden bowl and then at the brothers. "You've never even seen gruel before, have you?" Dean asked. Castiel shook his head. "Look, it's not great, but it keeps you full for a while. Just finish it off would you? Or give it back."

Castiel was hungry. He scrapped some of the edge of the bowl and brought the spoon to his mouth. The texture was almost gag-worthy. A mixture between mucus and grainy dust. It had little flavor, only saved by the small salty pieces of ham mixed in. He managed to down the rest of the bowl before he handed it back to Sam. Dean was right; his hunger vanished, but not in the comfortable warm sensation he was used to. Instead, it felt like a rock had settled in his stomach, pulling him down and dragging him around.

This time, Sam did not allow them to fall into silence. He immediately began asking Castiel questions about his home and his life, all while trying to avoid making him uncomfortable. Castiel appreciated Sam's tact and felt himself dropping his guard as a sort of tentative trust formed between the two.

"James, I am curious as to what your rank is. I don't mean to offend you by dropping the title."

"I am a lord," Castiel lied quickly. He hoped it sold, and from Sam's expression it had. He sighed and jumped when Dean shivered in front of him.

"Lord, alright, Lord James. Can you tell us your real name? Since you can't be of the Novak family, I mean."

"No."

"I apologize," Sam bowed his head. Dean rolled his shoulders uncomfortably and rearranged himself in the saddle.

"There is no need."

"You've mentioned your brothers. Are there any other siblings we should be aware of?"

"I have three brothers and a sister. I also have many servants who are like family though."

"Nothing says family like acting cordial for a few gold coins," Dean muttered. Castiel frowned, not quite understanding the insult.

"Dean," Sam hissed. He was absolutely horrified by Dean's behavior. He knew that his brother was bitter at nobles, but now was definitely not the time to express that. Besides, James didn't seem too disdainful of lesser subjects like the brothers. At least once you got past the naivety and pride. Sam's eyebrows drew up when James asked the next question.

"Do you two have any other siblings?"

"One," Dean answered harshly, "He's living with Ellen, Jo and Pam at the moment. Wanted out of the hunting life as soon as he realized that's what we did." Sam could have laughed outright at Dean's silly theatrics.

"He's just holding a grudge," he explained to James, "Feels like Adam abandoned his family. Thinks he's selfish." The aristocrat nodded seriously.

"I don't just feel like he abandoned us, he _did_ abandon us. Left for the easy life of a bar tender! The forest took mom-"

"The forest took _our_ mom, Dean. Not his." When Castiel gave Sam a confused look, he elaborated. "Our mom passed when we were both young. Our father found another woman and spent some time with her until she died of sickness. She was Adam's mother."

"Half-brothers then," James clarified. Sam nodded and Dean simmered.

"What about the rest of your family? Your parents?" Sam asked. Castiel pondered just how much he could tell without giving himself away.

"My father and mother are both…eccentric, I think would be the best way to describe them."

"Eccentric?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Yes. Father has always been a nervous man. He is strangely agreeable towards everyone and rather quiet for a man of his position. Mother is his exact opposite. She is forward and strict with some of the most arbitrary rules."

"Wow, sounds like fun," Sam said considering the descriptions. Dean sighed loudly.

"I suppose. I don't see much of either of them, so I wouldn't really know," admitted Castiel.

"What? You don't see your parents often?" Sam asked. His voice expressed deep concern, as though this neglect could damage the aristocrat.

"No, but that is not uncommon for families of my standing. My parents have too much to do with business to have time to spend on their children. Besides, I have tutoring almost all day and sparring in the evenings. And there are the servants to keep me company. And my siblings."

"Sounds real warm and snuggly," Dean deadpanned. The cave grew lighter and a wind picked up, sending a chill down all their spines. Castiel's hands felt heavy where they rested on his thighs. He figured it would be more comfortable to rest them on Dean's waist or shoulders, but was uncertain how the hunter would react. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to get some feeling back into his fingers while the brothers fell silent again.

"Hey James, if you're nobility," Sam started. He didn't seem too confident and twirled a piece of errant hair nervously. "I mean I don't mean to pry or anything, but if you're a noble, why haven't we seen you use magic?"

"I can't," was all Castiel said. It was the truth. Out of all his siblings, he was the only one who had no magic in them. The Council of Mages had told his father that once he had a girl, he should not ask God for more lest he tear his kingdom asunder. But his father had forgotten their warning and let Castiel be born. Castiel resented the prophecy. After all, nothing too bad had happened upon his birth. But he still had no magic, so he wasn't exactly thrilled.

"You can't? Wh-why?"

"I don't believe that knowledge of magic determines one's status in society, as I'm sure you know quite well," Castiel answered. He supposed it had come out harsher than intended by the way Sam flinched. In front of him, Dean shifted and let out a gruff noise of anger before snarling at Sam. Sam hunched his shoulders in a silent response. Castiel ignored their unspoken argument and went back to pondering whether Gabriel had already sorted out everything between their family members.

Castiel could not say how long it had been since they'd entered the cave, but the light coming from the faint pinprick of sun ahead suggested late evening had arrived. Dean picked up the pace suddenly, urging Baby into a quick trot which then turned into a raging gallop. Castiel had not been ready and nearly fell off the horse. He counter balanced, and clung to Dean's shoulders as Sam tried to catch up behind them. Dean howled loudly, his rough voice echoing against the chipped and uneven surface of the cave walls. He had a huge smile wiped on his face, smacking Baby's reins once and standing in his stirrups.

"Almost there, Jimmy," he shouted behind him, the startled noble gripping Dean's shoulders as best as he could, eyes wide with surprise. He heard Sam laughing and hollering behind him. The small dot of light at the end of the tunnel grew and grew, the bright colors solidifying into trunks and bushes. Baby burst out the cave with a low grunt of exertion. A few more fast-paced minutes of galloping later, and Dean let Baby slow down. She shook her head joyfully and pranced in place a little. He patted her neck and cooed at her while she snorted happily in response.

"You and that horse," Sam admonished playfully.

"Ah, shut up. You're just jealous," Dean said with a grin.

"Of you and your horse? Oh, I didn't realize you two were so exclusive."

"Oh shut up, ya' bitch," Dean growled. He sounded angry, but still had that playful air around him. For a moment, Castiel wished Gabriel were there to be a brother to him. He missed the next few quips the boys aimed at one another before Dean turned to him and said, "Hey Jim, you wanna ease up on the shoulders?" Castiel quickly let go, unaware that he'd let them linger after his shock had dissipated.

The sun hung low, casting soft golden light on the forest and deepening the shadows dramatically. The boys didn't seem to be in too much of a rush though, so Castiel said very little just hoping to get the Old Knight Turner's before the daylight disappeared and the most evil creatures came out of the brush.

**A/N: Updates every Saturday and Sunday! Reviews are appreciated!**


	7. Old Knight Turner's

Castiel wanted to break into a gallop when he saw the small wooden cabin. It looked similar to Robert Singer's, only smaller. There were shoddy glass windows, covered in dust and webbed with fissures, a door that didn't close correctly, and a thatched roof with a short stone chimney. Dean suddenly reached into his pants pocket and fidgeted until he found whatever it was he was looking for. He pulled his fist out, and then twisted until his hand was resting over his opposite shoulder, gesturing for James to hold out his hand. Castiel did so, and felt himself gape in shock when Dean dropped his blue brooch into his pale hands. He had completely forgotten about it. Even if he had remembered it, he probably would have just assumed that the brothers had stolen it.

"Figured you'd want that back. Seems valuable," was all Dean said. Castiel quickly fastened it to the collar of his shirt and nodded in thanks.

They only moved a little closer to the house before Dean and Sam stopped their horses. Castiel was about to open his mouth when Dean dismounted. He looked to Sam for confirmation before the two nodded in silent understanding. Then Dean slowly approached the house. He didn't even head toward the door. He walked cautiously around the perimeter of the property, sword drawn, and posture defensive.

"What is he doing?" Castiel couldn't help asking.

"Checking to make sure there's nothing deadly waiting for us. Just because inside Rufus's house is safe doesn't always mean the outside of his house is." Sam made a very good point. Castiel was silently grateful that these men had decided to help him. They may have been rude and aggressive and unfortunately common, but they'd helped Castiel in a time of need; he decided if they should ever come into the kingdom, he would allow them certain immunities. He thought of which privileges he could allow with his stature.

Dean shook him from his thoughts with a loud curse. Sam looked concerned before Dean shouted that everything was fine but they had a bit of a problem. Then the younger brother rolled his eyes and sighed. He prodded Ford forward, and Castiel followed on Baby. They both dismounted and joined Dean on the front step. He was grumbling to himself and held a shred of parchment in his glove.

"Can you believe this?" he waved the note in Sam's face.

"Wh-what? Dean, sto-" he grabbed the thing from Dean's hand, "Gimme that!" He shook the parchment straight and began to read.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Dean scrubbed his hands through his hair and groaned in a frustrated manner.

" _If you get this you pansy-ass princess, It's because you're late and I'm busy at the market. There's something hanging around these parts of the woods and I wasn't ready to handle it_. " Sam shifted uneasily before continuing, " _I suggest you haul ass back to the city if you plan on meeting your sister. There's food in the cabin. Good luck, Rufus… P.S. Don't die. _" Castiel joined Dean in a groan. Sam rubbed at his eye before turning to his brother. "Dean…"

"No," Dean pointed angrily at Sam, "don't you dare."

"Dean…"

"Sammy, I swear to God, if you say it," he threatened.

"Dean, I told you this was-"

"God damn it Sam!"

"We should have left him with Bobby while we went after it."

"Yeah, well Bobby's keeping an eye on it and would have contacted you if he'd seen anything."

"Unless he couldn't find it," Sam pointed out. Castiel stayed quiet. How on earth was he going to get back to Celeta in time? If the brothers decided to abandon him, he wouldn't blame them; but he had no way of getting out of the forest. He looked over the tree tops as the sun finished setting. He supposed that if he could get them to draw a map for him, he could make it back to the city after spending the night at Old Knight Turner's, but that might take a day or two and then what? He'd be a day early. He couldn't stay in the Between Woods, he didn't think he could handle the anxiety every creak of the floorboards would cause or the rustle of the bushes would instill. Castiel was not made for that. He was the type to spend his days in endless search of information. He preferred strategy and tactics to the actual battlefield. He was about to ask the arguing brothers about the map when a growl silenced all three of them.

Castiel recognized that sound.

His feet froze to the ground, his eyes open in terror as the brothers quietly drew their swords. Castiel felt his breathing quicken and his heart rate pulse frantically. He was not ready for this.

"Hey, Blueblood, get your sword out, would you?" Dean whispered from right behind him. "It might not do you any good, but it'll make me feel a hell of a lot better." Castiel struggled to get the blade from its sheath. He let out a shaky breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Sam and Dean stepped slowly down off the porch and on to the ground. The growling grew louder. Castiel wanted to tell them to come back, to shout that it was dangerous. Finally, the beast showed itself. The same smoking scruff and smoldering eyes. It snapped its hellish jaws in a show of dominance and resumed growling. Its body faded in and out of Castiel's sight, like it didn't want to be seen, but it was more solid than before. Sam stood still only a few paces from where it hunched on its claws. The light around his head increased as he drew up more energy for his magic. His eyes held a fear that told Castiel he had never seen such a creature and had no clue where to begin in terms of attacking it. Dean on the other hand kept whipping his head around, looking for the creature that had Sam locked to the ground.

"Dean," Sam ventured almost inaudibly. Dean must not have heard him so he tried again. "Dean!"

"What? Where is this sonofabitch?"

"It's right there. I've never…"

"Where?"

"Right there. You don't see it?" Sam's voice edged on panic. Castiel saw what remained of the four arrows that had slowed the creature down half a week earlier. They were only four small stakes of wood amongst the mess of wiry black fur covering the beast. Dean's boot came down on a brittle branch in the darkness and everything went to hell.

The wolf creature lunged forward only to meet Sam's blade with its teeth. They sparred for a moment before jumping apart, Sam cursing under his breath, the creature pacing angrily and growling. It suddenly lifted its head to the air and sniffed. It turned towards Castiel and began growling terribly.

"What the hell?" Dean asked trying to edge his way to his brother. "What's going on?"

"D-dean," Castiel stuttered from the porch, "That's the thing that-"

"Are you freaking kidding me? It's coming after you again? Where the hell is this thing, Sam?" Sam pointed his sword at the beast and Dean began hedging his steps, gaining a little more on the wolf. It had started towards Castiel on the porch, but Dean didn't seem too keen on letting it get there. He listened carefully to where its low rumble was and suddenly lashed out, striking the creature once, right on the neck. It jumped at him, stumbling backwards at the quick weight change before slashing at Dean with its huge grimy paws. It only landed one blow before Sam was on it. He stabbed at its flanks and managed to draw a little more blood. The thing shrieked in an unearthly manner, and Castiel watched as it flickered in and out of perception. He stumbled carefully off the porch, sword held defensively in front of him. While Sam and the creature fought it out, Castiel tried his best to keep quiet in the dark and make his way to Dean.

"James, get your ass inside, would you? You're gonna get killed," Dean said as he used his sword to prop himself up. Castiel ignored him, and began scanning Dean's chest for the wounds the wolf had been sure to leave. There were two lines of blood seeping through the white sleeve of his shirt, but he didn't seem fazed. He ran to help his brother, pushing Castiel back towards the house.

The prince hated feeling so useless. If Gabriel were here, the beast would be dead by now. Castiel stepped towards the battle unconsciously. He felt his jaw clench. He was useless. He'd always been useless. He was the only member of his family without magic. He remembered his father's look of disappointment when the teachers had told him that his son was an anomaly. The mages had told him that was how these things worked: you traded magic for sanity within the family line. And now he would die, along with these brothers who'd given up their valiant hunt to help him on his way.

Sam was desperately trying to hack away the jaws that had his arm in their grip. Dean was stabbing the beast's flank wildly as he shouted Sam's name. The creature turned and roared at Dean. Its form smoked in a slow contrast to the action around it; the haze was hard to make out in the dark. Now Sam took up the stabbing while Dean parried each snap of the jaws with his sword. Castiel didn't know how he knew it, but something in Dean's posture told him that he was going to fall. It must have been the way his body leaned backwards as he retreated, or the way his steps sped up and erratically lost control.

He didn't know how it happened, but the last clear thought he had was that he owed these men his life and he wasn't about to let them die.

Dean had figured he was done for the moment he'd felt the putrid breath of whatever it was he was fighting float into his face. It smelt like burning bodies. That didn't mean he was going to lie down and take it. He slashed at it and waved his sword at it until the stinking blood that welled out of each slice covered the beast's head and showed just how ugly the thing was. He felt a little better about the battle once he could see where the thing was aiming for, but that didn't help his balance much. He could hear Sam's grunts of exertion and the sound of metal on flesh. The pain in his left arm was starting to catch up with him, but he kept moving. Just out of the corner of his eye, he noticed James standing near the porch. Poor guy would probably end up dead too at this rate. Dean almost felt bad, but he had more pressing matters at hand, particularly a large slobbering wolf the size of a donkey that was currently trying to take Dean's arm off.

He knew his steps were getting less precise. The beast was trying to close distance, lunging forward and snarling, then biting and screeching. His feet sped up. He was trying not to trip over any misplaced branch that would end his life, but it was difficult to multi-task and his weight was shifting further and further into his heels. He was going down. It was only a matter of time. He prepared himself for the end when it happened.

A hand grabbed his right shoulder, but it burned like the sun had moved and taken up residence up in his skin. The hand flung him to the forest floor harshly. When Dean opened his eyes, he almost believed he was dead. There was no way…it was impossible. James stood there in front of the beast with a hand on its disgustingly mutilated face. A bright blue light went off. It would have blinded Dean if he hadn't covered his eyes in time. He uncovered them when he heard a whimper and a thump. He gasped at the sight before him. Standing motionless in front of him was James, looking at him, his eyes glowing white and two enormous wings of light splayed out behind him. The dark night enunciated his glowing halo. Sam knelled a few paces behind the dead, burnt out body of the creature, now fully visible. Dean searched for words he could not find. Then James's glow began to falter, and he stumbled. When the lights faded from his body completely, he collapsed. His knees fell to the ground, he swayed, and then he laid face in the dirt.

The brothers stood and waited. They were silent for a long long while before Dean finally rushed over to James and flung his limp body over his shoulder and rushed into Rufus's home. Sam picked up the three swords that lay abandoned in the forest debris and followed his brother inside. He found the two in Rufus's room, James spread out on the bed, Dean sitting watching him with his elbows propped on his knees, his fingers laced under his chin. They kept quiet for a moment before Dean spoke.

"What the hell was that."


	8. Chopping Wood

Castiel felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as he opened his eyes. He stared up at the thatched roof for a few moments before trying to remember what happened. The memories all faded out after he began walking towards Dean, feeling no fear of the disgusting hellish beast. He turned his head and found himself staring up into Dean's unnaturally green eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but the hunter's gaze made the words catch in his throat. He was so focused on Dean that he barely registered Sam's hulking form standing behind his brother.

"James," Dean said slowly. There was a dark trepidation in his voice, like he wasn't sure if he should be angry or not. "Is there something you want to tell us?" Castiel opened his mouth to answer, closed it, then gaped again. He felt like a fish starving for the ocean. How could he explain something he didn't even understand?

"Who are you?" Sam tried to narrow it down. Castiel bit his lips and searched for the best way to say it. Unfortunately Dean found his words first.

"Well, let's see, not only does he know magic, but the guy's got wings. Which means he's a descendant of the angels. Now who do we know who're descendants of angels, hmm?"

"Dean," Sam warned. Dean lip twitched angrily before he turned back to Castiel.

"So, _James_, Which one are you, huh? Gabriel? Lucifer?"

"Castiel." He stared at his feet. His boots were disgustingly dirty. He found himself missing the castle and Inias and Balthazar. He wanted to go home.

"Great. Just great. So we've been carrying the littlest angel around for the last five days." Dean pressed his hand into his forehead and muttered to himself as he paced. Sam responded to Castiel's questioning look with a shrug. Dean stopped suddenly, gave Castiel a glare, and then pushed his way out of the room.

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Sorry about him, he's just, uh, frustrated right now. Just give him a while to digest it."

"Please don't apologize for your brother."

"S-sorry." They sat in silence for a few moments. Castiel tried to get his breathing even while Sam gathered his courage. The prince could see the questions forming on the hunter's brow.

"Sam, there is no need to hold your thoughts. Nothing has changed." Sam let out a breath and gave an awkward smile.

"I just wanted to know why you said you didn't know how to use magic."

"I don't. I thought I had no magic."

"But you're one of the Crown. Don't you all have magic?"

"I have never showed a capacity for it until now. I was a child born against the better judgment of the mages."

"That's…strange." Castiel nodded in agreement. He licked his lips before asking Sam his own question.

"What happened, exactly? I don't remember much." Sam sighed loudly and scooted a chair closer to the bedside as he sat.

"Well, you practically turned into a supernova and smote the crap out of whatever the hell that wolf thing was."

Dean slammed the door on his way out. How could he have ever let himself get duped so hard? The prince? _The prince? _How had he missed that? His father was deathly ill. Three brothers and a sister. An unused, highly embellished sword. Little to no social experience. Everything pointed directly to royalty. He wandered into the front yard to the place Castiel had burned the beast inside out and looked at the singed ground. Sam had moved the body farther into the forest so the smell of decaying flesh wouldn't attract more attention from the forest's creatures.

The grass was crispy and brown in the early morning sunlight. A single blooming lily grew from the center of the death site, strong green stem holding a six-petaled white flower. He whistled once and waited for the sound of hooves. Once Baby and Ford both trotted into the clearing around the house, he led them into Rufus's shit of a stable. He unsaddled them and filled the troughs before grabbing a few of the more valuable saddlebags and re-entering the house. A freaking prince. They had almost killed a freaking prince! He combed his hand through his hair and groaned angrily. He needed to chop some wood for a fire. That would help him relax.

It took a few hours for Castiel to regain enough strength to stand. According to Sam, for someone who had never used magic, Castiel had expended more energy than he should have even had. Sam came in at one point with some fresh chicken (from Rufus's stores), a boiled potato, and some leaves of salad. Castiel thanked him and ate heartily. He swore to himself that nothing had eaten in all his days at the castle had ever tasted so good. He heard some thumps and a cracking sound and sat straight as an arrow, completely alarmed. Sam soothed him, saying, "That's just Dean. He chops wood when he's stressed."

Castiel didn't understand why Dean was so upset. His status didn't change anything. He still needed to get back to Celeta at a very specific time. He still needed their help and would be willing to reward them for it. He almost felt guilty. Sam left to start on mid-day meal when Castiel decided it would be a good idea to confront Dean. He stumbled out to the rickety porch and found the hunter near the old ramshackle stable. He wore no shirt or armor, stripped down to his trousers and leather boots. Castiel faltered. Was this appropriate? He had no clue what situations like this called for. The only other people he'd ever seen in such a state were his brothers and sister. None of them had this effect though. Gabriel was muscular, but had a bit of fat that clung to his ribs and stomach from all the sweets he snuck out of the kitchen. Michael and Lucifer were well built as too, and Anael had a beautiful figure. But as Castiel watched Dean raise the ax over his head, he couldn't help but watch the sweat drip down the hunter's back. Castiel hated himself for letting his eyes linger.

"Hello Dean," he coughed out. Dean's head whipped around as he almost lost his grip on the ax mid-swing.

"Jesus Christ! Would it kill you to clear your throat or something?"

"Apologies."

"Whatever." Dean threw his arms back over his head and let the ax fall with a crack. The log that had stood there a moment before fell away in two pieces and Dean replaced it with another whole log.

"I wanted to speak with you." Castiel had no idea where to start. He'd never had to speak with someone outside the palace, and even when he had, he'd had his siblings to speak for him. He was not a man of many words.

"Well congratulations, you're doing just that."

"That's not what I meant." Dean smacked the ax down again, and this time the action was so powerful the sharp blade got lodged in the cutting block. Dean tried to pull it out, but then gave up and began removing his gloves. He faced Castiel as he did so.

"Alright, what is that you want to speak to me about?" Castiel clenched his jaw at how little of Dean's emotion played in his voice. The prince couldn't gage his reaction, and therefore did not know which tone he should take himself. He decided that cordiality would be best.

"I simply wanted to thank you for helping me despite the trouble it has caused you." Watching Dean carefully, Castiel took a shaky step forward. Dean crossed his arms. The hunter suddenly seemed uncomfortable.

"Yeah, okay. You're welcome."

"And I wanted to know if you would be willing to help me further."

"I don't get much of a choice, now do I?"

"You do." Dean's eyes widened a bit as though this was news to him. "I am surprised no one has informed you. Neither Celeta nor Dema have any claim on the Between Woods. Those who live here have no allegiance to either crown; this is a place of vigilante justice." Dean unhooked one of his arms and rubbed his forehead.

"Yeah yeah, I know all that, but it still just doesn't…" He looked up to the sky and grunted angrily. "That's not how my family works. We make a mistake, we fix it. No questions asked, and we see it through to the end."

"Valiant, but unnecessary in this case." Castiel felt his blood rushing to his head. The ground seemed unsteady for a moment before he shook his head and relearned his surroundings.

"How do you figure?"

"As far as I am concerned, you have done more for me than you could have, and in all right should have. That did not stop you. I am not asking that you 'repay a debt' as you seem to think. I am asking a favor of a friend." He should have probably eaten more of the meal Sam had given him, or perhaps waited another hour before confronting Dean. The world was swimming in and out of focus and the pounding in his ears was bordering on unbearable. He tried to regain his balance with another step forward.

"Hey princess, you alright?" Dean actually sounded concerned for him.

"I'm fine." He tried to move his foot again, but found the ground coming to meet him.

"Whoa there," Dean caught him around the middle just before his legs gave out completely. "If you don't keep fainting around me, I'm going to assume that you're susceptible to my good looks and quick wit," Dean didn't know if he was teasing as he said it. Castiel's reaction was limited, and he went cross-eyed for a moment. He couldn't tell if Dean had forgiven him, but he decided to play along.

"I had hoped that once you realized who I was, I would receive a little more respect," Castiel mumbled as Dean set him upright.

"What can I say," Dean shrugged, "I have a problem with authority."

"I've said what I must. I think I'll be going back to bed now." Castiel attempted to turn around but saw strange blinking spots flying around his sight. For a moment we found himself pondering fireflies before he realized Dean had lifted the prince's arm over his unclothed shoulders and was guiding him towards the door.

When Sam returned to check on the prince, he found Dean sitting with his bare back to the door, his chair turned so he could rest his arms and chin on the backrest. Prince Castiel lay in the bed, buried in the tartan and patchwork blankets. Sam smirked from the door frame and let out a low whistle. Dean jerked in his chair from the surprise, then tossed an angry snarl over his shoulder.

"Who would have thought that Dean Winchester would fall for a prince?"

"Oh shut up, you pansy."

"Wow, not even a curse. What's got you all thinking about stuff?" Sam loved it when he had a chance to tease Dean. After a childhood of "I'm the oldest, so I'm in charge," it felt nice to have a little leverage over the older man.

"Don't you have some sewing or hair-braiding to do?"

"Actually," Sam flipped his loose hair in an overly effeminate way, "I just took it out of braids for a little breathing time. Looks nice, don't you think?"

"Whatever."

Sam's smile faded from teasing to understanding. He chuffed Dean on the shoulder before sitting on the edge of the bed and looking to have an in depth conversation. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Dean silenced him.

"Oh no, we are not having a touchy feely display. Not while there's another man in the room, sleeping _or_ conscious." Sam just rolled his eyes and continued.

"So what's the plan?"

"Well, he's got two days, right?"

"He said first market day, so…yeah, two days."

"Alright, it takes a day to get to the Celeta gates, and then there's the matter of getting the gates open," Dean started, "Crap, how are we going to do that?"

"Same way we always do, Dean. Through the East entrance? That's closer to the markets anyhow."

"Right, so that means we gotta add another half day to the trip." Sam frowned at Dean's scrunched up expression. The older hunter dragged a hand through his stubble and sighed at the sleeping prince.

"Then it's only a few hours to the marketplace," Sam continued for him.

"Yeah, so we'll have a couple hours to kill in the city to try and contact Bobby."

"Okay," Sam conceded, nodding, "This sounds like it's gonna work."

"Yeah, but we both know that means it's all gonna go to hell."

"Have a little faith, would you?"

Dean just huffed at him in disbelief as he stood, swung the chair back around correctly and left the floor boards creaking in his wake. Sam took his seat and stared intently at the prince. He was surprised that Dean hadn't pressed about Prince Castiel's reasons for being here. Honestly, Sam could not think of a single good reason for the prince to be in the forest alone. He'd said his brothers wanted him dead because he was getting a fortune, but in light of his true identity, it seemed far-fetched. They were princes for God's sake! They already had fortunes! Sam shook his head. They could focus on that once Prince Castiel was awake.


	9. Baths

Castiel woke to a scream and some laughter. He hadn't known what to expect when he found the brothers, but the scene he stumbled upon was definitely not the sight he'd attempted to predict.

They were out back behind the house, near the stables. Castiel had never seen such a contraption before. It was sort of like the large basins he'd noticed the lower classes use for bathing, only smaller and wooden. The brown shiny exterior was held together with metal rings and steam rose steadily from the water within the barrel-like tub. Dean was dripping wet and half hanging out over the edge facing Castiel while Sam crouched by the ground warming his hands with the fire beneath the wash basin.

"I fucking hate you," Dean said brokenly.

"You said hotter, I just gave you what you wanted," Sam snarked back at him. Dean lifted his torso and straightened up while he ran a hand through his saturated hair. He noticed Castiel on the back porch and settled back on the edge of the tub with his arms below his chin. He had a crooked smirk pulling his lips.

"Well look who it is."

"Oh, Prince Castiel, you're awake." Sam stood and gave a small head bow of respect. When Castiel returned it, Sam bent his knees again and plopped back onto his bottom next to the tub. Castiel approached cautiously, uncertain of whether he was allowed near. In the palace, baths were usually rather private, but neither of the brothers seemed too irked or uncomfortable about his presence. The older hunter had closed his eyes, almost looking content in the water. Sam just prodded the fire to keep it going every once in a while. The prince made sure to inspect the thing thoroughly before settling himself on the ground next to Sam.

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly is this?"

"Bath tub," Sam replied.

"It was Sam's turn next, but if you want you can have it when I'm done," Dean called. The water stirred and splashed as Dean turned to face his brother and the prince. Castiel glanced at Sam, who only shrugged before declining Dean's offer.

"But if you don't mind, I wouldn't object to waiting until Sam is done," Castiel slowly said. Sam bobbed his head in agreement. There was a small silence that hung in the air. Castiel took the opportunity to gaze out at their surroundings. Old Knight Turner's stable was dilapidated at best. The wood was rotting, and Castiel could see Ford and Baby shifting within. The trees stood in a nice curve about twenty paces from the porch, giving the clearing an almost field-like quality. The ground was chilly like the crisp air and the smell of dirt and smoke hung to the brisk wind. Had the forest not been teeming with deadly, other-worldly creatures, Castiel might have even found himself liking the thicket. Castiel fiddled with a twig next to him spot on the forest floor.

There was the trill of water dripping so the prince looked up. Dean stood in the wood tub reaching for a piece of cloth from Sam. The fabric looked uncomfortable and scratchy, but Dean fluffed up his hair regardless. Castiel looked at the twig he twirled between his thumb and forefinger. He offered up a silent prayer that by the time he looked up, Dean was wearing pants and Sam was already in the tub.

"And make sure the fire doesn't go out," Sam chided, like it had happened before.

"I don't understand why you don't just use your magic to heat the water," Dean rolled his eyes in response.

"That's not how magic works." Castiel had a feeling that Sam was just covering for his own lack of experience, but said nothing. Dean seemed to let it go too. He dragged a plain white shirt over his head and shrugged into the shoulders. He settled quietly beside Castiel. The sound of chirping crickets wafted in from the surrounding trees and for a moment, the forest didn't have a miasma of death about it. Dean readjusted his shoulders and sighed.

"Hey Sammy when you're finished, you wanna heal me up again? This burn doesn't seem to be getting any better."

"Dean, I'm exhausted. I used a lot of both of our energies to try and heal that thing. It was probably made by something with greater magic than I. You'll have to wait until we get to Celeta for a healer."

Castiel looked between them. What were they talking about? When had Dean been burnt?

"You're hurt?" Castiel asked. Dean turned his head to face him and nodded.

"You gotta see this. It's really weird. That stupid-ass hell hound must have done something, I don't know," he babbled as he rolled up his left sleeve. Sam peered over the edge of the tub at them.

"Hell hound? Is that what that thing was? I thought it was some kind of nasty werewolf or shifter."

"Nah, I read about them last night. Cas gave me a description, and they happened to match it."

Prince Castiel was too busy staring at Dean's shoulder to register any of what they were saying. The skin was red and raw, raised slightly from the muscle of Dean's bicep. It was almost… Castiel had never been the best at social graces, but he knew as he lifted his arm that he was absolutely breaking every interpersonal boundary in existence. He didn't care though. Dean grew quiet when he felt Cas's hand brush his skin. The burn was almost a perfect match. He could feel a thrum of power when his hand lay fully on the mark. Dean must have felt it too because he jumped at the contact. Dean lowered his face to stare at Castiel. The prince swallowed thickly and pulled away.

"I am sorry." He fixed his eyes on the ground. Dean glanced at the mark on his arm, then at Castiel, then back at his arm before sighing dramatically.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Castiel had expected anger more than the exasperation in Dean's comment. "Well if a royal did this to me, that means I'm gonna have to get a more powerful royal to heal it. Fantastic."

"I'm sure Anael will be willing to help you," Castiel tried to console. Dean's eyes flew to the sky as he shook his head and unrolled his sleeve.

"You want me to give you two some privacy?" came Sam's smug jab. Castiel didn't understand his tone and replied in question.

"Shouldn't we be the ones to give you privacy while you bathe?" Sam stared at him for a moment before suddenly laughing. Dean chuckled beside him and he turned to ask, "Did I say something humorous?"

"Nah, Cas, but your face was priceless," smiled Dean. He playfully pushed on Castiel's shoulder. The prince didn't know why, but he found the gesture warm and welcoming rather than inappropriate as he ought to. He was a prince, they should give him the respect he was entitled to; that seemed to have little influence on these hunters. They were crass and earthy, but loyal and kind. Castiel felt himself smile as the sun started setting.

Sam stayed behind to clean the water and re-stoke the fire using magic. Dean left to go start supper so it would be finished by the time they were all clean. Castiel felt much better after washing a week's worth of forest-grime off his skin. Sam gave him some of the brothers' older clothes to dress in while they cleaned his other more regal garments. Sam also said it would help Castiel blend in once they got to the city. They emptied the tub then put out the fire. They flipped the wooden barrel over and rolled it behind the stable. Dean reappeared with some plates of steaming food for them not too long after that. He relit the fire to Sam's grumblings of "We just put that out!", and all three of them sat around exchanging stories. Dean and Sam tried to out-humiliate the other, from Sam telling of how he'd caught Dean dancing with a broom when he was eight to Dean talking about the time he'd found Sam attracting a little too much of male attention in the taverns, not because the men liked _him_, but because they had thought he was a woman. And then one had tried to feel him up, and Sam punched every single one of the lechers out in a fit of drunken rage. Sam hid his face behind his hand as Dean smacked him on the back and laughed.

Castiel mainly spoke about Gabriel and Anael's antics. The two, particularly Gabriel, had a habit of getting into trouble. Anael tended to do so by breaking Mother's rules; she'd go into the market without an escort, or practice dancing instead of archery, or use her magic to decorate the halls. Gabriel, of course, was out to trick and deceive as many people as possible. One of his favorites was switching the salt and sugar in the kitchen. Once, it had taken a full week for the cooks to realize why all their dishes had come out so disgustingly. But that was nothing compared to the time he'd dressed up as a woman for a month. There had been a kingdom wide panic at the thought of losing one of their princes, when really, Gabe was just pretending to be one of Anael's Ladies in waiting, and trying to seduce his brother Michael. The saddest part was that he had only broken character when Michael had tried to kiss him. Dean laughed outright at that story. Sam tried to hide his laugh behind his hand and talked about the time _Dean_ had been forced to dress as a woman as part of a disguise. Dean pushed him over, sending his food all over the ground, but Sam couldn't stop laughing.

At a lull in the conversation, Sam brought his brows together in thought. He opened his mouth before looking at the ground and fire. He tried again, and failed. Finally he steeled himself enough to ask:

"Prince Castiel, why are you in the Between Woods?" Castiel felt his jaw clench. He licked his lips and set his plate down beside him. He knew this would happen eventually, but he'd been hoping to put it off for as long as possible. When he glanced up, he saw that both brothers were watching him expectantly.

"My father is ill, as I told you," he began. They nodded and looked a little uncomfortable. "And he had his will drawn up recently. That much is true. My brothers are also out for my head. I wasn't lying."

"That still doesn't explain why you're out here. What could possibly so important to your brothers that they would want to kill their own family?"

"Th-the throne." Castiel braced himself for a sudden change in demeanor. He hated to admit it to himself, but he liked the way the hunters treated him. It was just a little more familiar than the way the servants addressed him. It was comforting. Now that they knew he was the heir, he expected them to close off like any peasant would. Instead, Dean just said, "Shit," and Sam only gaped.

"That's weird," Dean commented around his bit of potato. "Why didn't Michael get the king deal? Isn't he the oldest?"

"Yes, but apparently, my father disdains how conservative and stubborn he is."

"What about Lucifer?" Sam questioned, "Wouldn't he be the next choice?"

"Lucifer is unstable. Even I know that. He doesn't think before he acts, and often refuses to admit his mistakes. It is no secret that he is unfit to be a king."

"And I'm assuming that Gabriel and Aneal have no desire to rule."

"Neither do I," Castiel said. He could feel anger floating up in his stomach like smoke. "I prefer the library to the reception hall and time to myself over the parties and balls my mother is always throwing. I wanted to succeed Metatron as the King's scribe. My brothers are too power hungry and competitive to see that. So they decided that the best way to get rid of the threat to their throne permanently was to kill me."

"That's messed up," replied Dean.

"Not completely. I am not very close to Michael or Lucifer. To them I am probably the equivalent of an influential lord. It is likely that they don't even see me as their brother."

"So what happens when you get back then? Are they still going to be after you?" asked Sam. He had a concerned undertone to the curiosity in his voice.

"Gabriel will have calmed them down by then. He is rather gifted in persuasion."

"I sure hope so. It'd be a shame to hear they got that pretty little head of yours on a platter," Dean commented off handedly. Castiel didn't know what to make of the comment, so he said nothing. Sam gathered their plates and Dean began to smother the fire. Castiel headed back inside to prepare himself for bed when the brothers insist he have an after-supper-drink with them. Castiel wasn't one for liquor, but he obliged them anyway. He took one drink and scrunched his nose at the burn of ale down his throat. Dean thought the look was humorous and laughed heartily at it. Cas tried to redeem himself by downing it quickly and asking for another. Dean warned him to slow down in a playful tone. Castiel ignored him and chugged the ale Sam poured for him. They all sat in what Dean and Sam referred to as Rufus's hall. There were two chairs, which Sam let Dean and Cas have while he sat on the ground. They fell back into conversation, the brothers feeling the effect of their ale. Castiel was surprised he wasn't as hazy as the hunters. He had assumed that since he didn't drink very often, his tolerance would be low. He disregarded it as they spoke.

Sam stood about an hour later. The dark settling outside was finally finding its way into the house. The man stretched and said good night before wobbling into the small bedroom he and Dean would be sharing. Castiel stood as well. He felt nice, despite his situation. Dean had used his flint stones to spark a fire earlier and it glowed lightly as its embers slowly died.

"Good night, Dean."

"'Night, Cas," the hunter said drowsily. He stood, gave a wobbly bow, and then walked through the doorway Sam had disappeared in a few minutes prior. Prince Castiel watched him go before turning towards his own door.

He fell asleep almost the instant his head hit the pillow and did not dream.


	10. Stars

**A/N: Okay, wow, first off, I'd just like to say thank you wowowowowow, you guys are great! And I'm screaming really loud because one of my SENPAIS FOLLOWED THIS LAST NIGHT Anyway, I just want to let you all know how much I appreciate you and if you have any questions or comments, I would be more than willing to see them! But, enough of this! Enjoy! 3**

The next morning flew by. Sam and Dean were already awake and packing by the time he woke. Surprisingly, he felt no cloud over his mind. He was as clear and lucid as he was in the daytime. He dressed himself, placing his blue brooch at his throat carefully. He could hear the opening and closing of the front door and Dean dictating orders to his brother. He almost ran into Sam when he opened the door into the hall.

"Whoa! Excuse me, your majesty!" Sam set him upright and hurried off. Castiel didn't know why, but the title disconcerted him. It made him want to scratch all over. It wasn't right. He shook the thought from his mind and went to the kitchen. Dean had a bag over his shoulder and was tossing some potatoes into another that rested on the wooden floorboards. Castiel remembered what Dean had said about turning up out of nowhere, so he coughed lightly. Dean's head whipped around and he smiled.

"Perfect, here take this." The hunter shrugged off the caramel-colored bag and held it out to him. Castiel took it wordlessly. He didn't think much on the way towards the door, but when he reached out for the handle, he paused. For a moment he was scared out of his mind. Two out of the three times he'd ever been in the woods, something had attacked him. He didn't want that. He shuddered before shoving his phobia down under a lacquer of princely pride, just as he did before entering the Grand Hall at every social event he was compelled to attend. He strode into the clearing and tossed the bag to Sam. The horses stood ready, all saddled up and snorting in the cold. Dean made a bee-line to Baby and began cooing at her. She whipped her long black mane around a bit before nuzzling at the hand he held out for her. He threw his leg over her back and settled into the saddle before reaching out to Cas. He took the glove and plopped down into place behind Dean.

He balked again. He still had no idea where to put his hands, and he was not looking forward to numb hands after aother day of riding. The brothers were back in their hunting gear, Dean in his green leather vest and pauldron, Sam in his mail and greaves. Castiel tentatively rested his hands on Dean's waist. The hunter didn't seem to notice, and by the time they reached the trees, Castiel felt a little more at ease with this compromising position.

No doubt if Gabriel were to see him on the back of such an attractive man's horse, the teasing and innuendos would never end. It had happened on his stay in Dema when he was young, and it had taken years for Gabriel to forget about it. He only hoped that no one would recognize their prince once they entered the city's gates. He sighed and bowed his head startled when the crown of his head met the back of Dean's neck. The hunter only chuckled when Cas pulled back with a snort. Cas could feel the ice creeping over his veins as Dean tossed a sly smile over his shoulder.

"If you two are gonna do that, I'm out of here," Sam said sardonically. Dean only let out a soft laugh, and the chill in Cas's arms melted as his cheeks heated.

"Come off it Sammy," Dean called back, "It's not like we're fucking each other." Castiel felt his grip tighten on Dean's waist and more blood rush to his face. Sam snorted as if to say, "You kind of were," but he settled for "Whatever," and whipped Ford's reins twice. Baby followed without coaxing, and soon the horses were racing each other in a sort of air-fueled exhilaration.

Castiel didn't realize how close to the cave they were until they actually reached it. While journeying through the darkness, rough chipped walls only illuminated by the torch Sam lit, they had some dried pork and boiled eggs. Castiel decided he didn't like hard boiled eggs.

The cave was much warmed than the air outside. He shuddered when he thought of all the farmers who would be out this time of year to harvest their crops. He much preferred the heat the castle offered at this time of year. He suddenly found himself wondering. That tended to happen when he had nothing to read, or nothing to say. He wondered about everything from why his magic had randomly decided to show itself to which turret he was going to throw Gabriel off of for this ridiculous plan of his. He decided the roof of the keep might just be high enough.

"I have a question," he started quietly.

"What is it, Prince?" Sam asked back. Castiel knew he flinched visibly when Sam addressed him as such, and he instantly regretted the involuntary action.

"Why is there a cave in the middle the forest? And why is it behind a waterfall? Doesn't that seem a bit cliché?"

Sam laughed and Dean replied with, "Something to do with nature I think," before rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

"There's a legend about it," Sam smiled.

"Of fucking course there is," Dean rolled his eyes in response. Sam just continued.

"Hunters say that when King Raphael was still in power, he wanted an easier way to Dema, since he was planning to invade. The path they took back before the cave was winding and arduous. But when the masons tried to excavate, they found that the mountain was the home of a wood nymph, and they couldn't shake her blessing no matter how much black powder they used."

"No," Castiel said under his breath.

"What?" Dean glanced over his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"That must have been why he enslaved the fairies," Castiel said to himself. Sam gave him a confused look.

"Well, yeah, that's actually the next part of the story. How'd you know that?"

"Fairies are the only ones who can build on nymph's ground. And I knew that he'd enslaved them for a time, but there are no records as to why. And that invasion that he'd planned turned into a massacre, didn't it?"

Sam nodded and continued his story, "The King commanded that no man, woman, child, or creature escape the blade. They turned the farmlands into an inferno, but when they reached the castle, Knight Abbadon turned the tides and destroyed the entire battalion."

"That woman…" Castiel thought to himself, "She's not human."

"Well, hell, I could'a told you that," Dean groaned. "The woman's been alive since King Raphael was in power! That was what? Over a hundred years ago?"

"No, I mean she's not a benevolent creature. She is cold in the most disturbing of ways," Castiel tried his hardest to explain, but it was just something about the General of Dema that was indescribable. It was the same kind of thing as the forest, he realized, like it was waiting until you were unaware of the danger to strike. Her red hair and lips flashed in his mind, her cruel mouth turning into an awful smirk. He shuddered.

"Well, human or not, good girl or bad, you can't deny that she's a hell of a knight," Dean pointed out.

"The best." Castiel let out a long breath. They trio was quiet for the rest of the journey through the cave. Castiel went back to guessing at what his siblings were doing at this very moment; his mind wondered onto what these brothers were thinking of. Was Dean thinking about Baby? Or food? Was Sam pondering the other faults of Raphael's rule? God knew there were enough to fill a book: Castiel had actually read four of such nature. He counted the unsteady beat of the horses' hooves against the fairy-made smooth ground. Castiel's eyes hurt when they stepped out from behind the thundering waterfall. He could feel the muscles in his eyes contract at the brightness.

"Wow, it's a lot later than I thought it'd be," Sam sighed.

Dean responded with, "Eh, we got plenty of time." He coughed into his glove before looking back at Castiel again, almost looking nervous. He bit his lip before turning to watch he ground ahead of Baby.

"We're not gonna have a house to sleep in tonight, princess."

"What?"

"Yeah, we probably should have mentioned it earlier, but the way we're going means we won't be stopping at Bobby's." Dean shrugged. There was an uncomfortable twinge in his voice.

"Oh," was all the prince could manage. Sam hopped off Ford and washed off some apples in the river. Dean slid down off Baby as well. As Sam fed the horses the fruit, Dean splashed some water on his face. Once Cas joined them on the ground, they decided to take lunch. It was gruel again, no bacon this time. Dean couldn't help but laugh when Cas gagged as he ate his portion.

Cas didn't speak for the rest of the journey, and the brothers seemed to take their tone from him. Castiel began counting the number of trees they passed, but gave up after 253. Then he tried counting the freckles on the back of Dean's neck. It was much easier, since these didn't whizz past. He got around seventy-six before they stopped for supper.

The sun's rays disappeared in the unfamiliar trees around them. Dean and Sam sat on two boulders while Cas sat on a fallen tree a few feet away. Sam had cooked up some potatoes and turnips, and insisted on adding some leaves of cabbage he'd pulled from Rufus's stores. When Dean had finished his bowl of boiled roots, he began shaking what looked to be sand around the extremely small clearing. When Sam noticed Castiel's confusion, he told the prince, "Salt. Keeps the bad stuff out." Castiel nodded. He'd read about certain substances like goofer dust, so he understood. Then Sam rose and unpacked two of the bags on Ford's rear. He spread out the straw mats and blankets.

"Two hour shifts?" Dean asked.

"Sounds good. Wake me up when it's my turn." Sam unpacked one more bag off his horse before snuggling down under the pile of threadbare sheets. Dean stared at Castiel for a few moments before glancing at the other pile of blankets waiting for a body.

"You gonna sleep, or…?"

"I'm not tired."

"Oh God, if you two start this up again, I'm going to throw myself into the fire."

"Shut up, Sammy."

"I don't understand. What are we doing?"

"Don't worry about it, Cas," Dean smiled. Sam just rolled his eyes and turned so his back was towards the flames.

Half an hour into the shift, Sam's snores were the only thing audible over the crackle of the flames. Castiel watched Dean's back and shoulders jerk as he whittled something with his hunting knife. He wanted to say something, start some sort of conversation and interact with the hunter, but he had no idea where to begin. He was terrible at conversing to begin with, and now he felt even ore flustered with his lack of social grace. Luckily, as he was berating himself, Dean saw an opportunity in the sky.

"You awake, Cas?" The prince jumped out of his stupor and grunted in affirmation. "You ever see the stars from the castle?"

"Yes, the view from the atrium is excellent."

"Hmm."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well it's just been a really long time since I've seen them unobstructed, you know?"

"Why is that?" Dean huffed out a laugh and turned to face the prince.

"Okay, well you see, Sam and I didn't exactly have the most normal childhood. And before you ask, 'How so?' or some other stupid question, I'll get to that later. Long story short though, Sam and I were practically raised in these woods."

"The trees," Castiel surmised. He glanced around at the leaves, only illuminated in the golden light of the fire. Their trunks disappeared in the night's shadows, making the foliage look like glowing clouds.

"Yeah, they're pretty and all during the day, I guess, but at night time they block out the sky." He put the wood and knife own to blow into his hands and shiver a little. "You wanna grab me a blanket or something?" the hunter asked. Castiel rose, took a piece the thickest piece of fabric he could and handed it to Dean. The man patted on the rock next to him. "C'mon, take a seat. It's harder to talk to you if you're behind me."

They sat in silence for a while. Castiel tested Dean's theory about the sky, and could only see a smattering of stars beyond the gold lighted leaves. He sighed and turned to find Dean staring at him. The hunter quickly rolled his shoulders and popped his neck, almost like he was embarrassed. As time passed, Castiel felt the temperature drop and couldn't stop the shiver that ran up his spine.

"You should get some sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow, what with reuniting with your half-murderous family and all."

"I suppose."

"You don't sound too thrilled."

"Well, would you want to go back, if you were in my place?" Dean shrugged uncomfortably and stood. Castiel copied and rose to his feet.

"Between the woods and my family, I'd have to choose my family."

Castiel sighed but nodded. He knew he had to go back, but there was still a knot of worry in his stomach. As he walked to his designated pile of straw mat and sheet, Dean changed his position so he faced the other side of the salt circle.

"Good night, Dean."

"'Night, Cas."


	11. The Roadhouse

**A/N: I apologize for the late update! Eep! I completely forgot it was Saturday, but here you all go! Enjoy!**

* * *

The walls loomed over their heads like giants. Seventy paces to each side of them stood the lookout towers, connected with warm tan brick work. Castiel felt anticipation curling in his belly along with a nervous ribbon of fear. The morning had been quick. He hadn't heard the brothers switching shifts in the night, and when he woke, Dean was preparing eggs and gruel for breakfast. They ate in silence, mounted their horses, and rode on fast towards the Eastern Gate. Castiel had never needed to use the secondary gates, but he'd heard about them and their rather over-sold glory. This gate, in contrast to the large creaking doors of the North and South Gates, was barely large enough for Baby and Ford to fit through together, and only rose halfway up the side of the stone structure. No one used these gates but hunters, immigrants, and vagabonds, and as such, there were only two guards standing watch on the interior of the wall.

"Halt in the name of King Charles! State your names and business!" The guard was rather short, and her face was barely visible under her silver visor. The other guard, a taller man with a broad nose and full lips pointed a sword at the trio.

"Dean, Sam, and Adam. Hunters on a case."

"What are you hunting?" the man spoke carefully. Dean noticed he pulled his visor lower over his face. Strange.

"Demon," Dean smiled. Both guards went rigid and lowered their weapons. The woman shifted and for a moment the two conferred.

"Proceed," the woman finally commanded.

"Have a good day!" the older hunter called over his shoulder playfully.

"You too!" the woman back. The man elbowed her and she grunted in pain. Dean huffed a small laugh.

Castiel's legs were beginning to twitch. He couldn't wait to see his siblings again, but what if Gabriel had failed? How could he possibly convince those two headstrong idiots that Castiel wanted no part of the throne? The prince worried his lower lip and curled his fingers tighter around Dean's waist. What he wouldn't give for a carriage. He was used to horse-riding of course, but after three days on his rear, his back was killing him. He was glad he was wearing his cincher since it reduced slouching and held his innards correctly. He wondered how the brothers managed this sort of ride for weeks on end. He was so wrapped in his own mind that he thankfully missed their pass through the lower quarter. By the time he became aware of their surroundings, they had found their way into the barter stalls of the market place. It was still relatively early, but that only meant there was a flurry of fabric and shouting.

Many of the stalls had black banners or covers over their usually vibrant market tops. There were all sorts of people running to and fro about the booths: peasants hoping for some bread, children bringing their parents goods to sell, smiths yelling to their apprentices, aristocrats on their horses, looking down at everyone else. A chicken flew under Baby's feet, and she stamped and whinnied until Dean rubbed a calming hand over her neck. Castiel hated market days.

"Now which tavern are you supposed to meet your family in?" Dean asked.

"The Roadhouse." Both brothers sat up and looked at Castiel in a confused manner. "What's wrong? Did I say something strange?"

"N-no, It's just that-" Sam stumbled over his words as Ford picked his way through a crowd of children. "That's where Adam is. And Jo and Ellen and Pam."

"Pam," Dean smiled. "Can't wait to see her."

"_Sleep _with her," Sam corrected.

"Why do you keep trying to whore me out, eh Sammy? First Cas, now Pam? When will it end?"

"What?" Castiel had no clue what these two were giggling about. Dean hadn't "whored out" to him. What did Dean mean by that?

"Don't worry about it, princess." The horses followed their riders' requests and turned down a less crowded alleyway. A few maids were emptying some water basins in the gutters, and Dean nodded at them in acknowledgement. It was much less stressful here. Cas sighed and leaned his head against the back of Dean's neck on accident. He didn't know why he did it; he probably just forgot where he was and was so relieved to be out of the market. Dean didn't make any move to push him away though, so Cas didn't pull back. He was so worked up about today that he was starting to become lethargic and foggy.

With Baby's rhythmic steps and the smell of earth and hickory and sweat, Cas felt the dark edge of sleep moving in to take over his consciousness.

"Cas, wake up buddy." Castiel didn't recognize the voice, but the shape in front of him as Dean's face. He yawned and shut his eyes hoping to wake up back in his bare room, Gabriel bursting in and begging him to help hide a kelpie egg. "C'mon, Cas. Up and at 'em." The grumbling tenor finally registered in the prince's ears so he grunted and stretched his arms out in front of him. He realized that he was inside from the smell. Apples and cinnamon and a scent he couldn't quite place. Maybe rosemary? It didn't matter.

"What time is it?"

"You slept through mid-day meal. Luckily, Ellen didn't see me sneak some out for you." Castiel sat up straight.

"I was asleep that long?"

"Yeah. You want steak and bread or potatoes and chicken?"

"Steak," he responded drowsily. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. They still had a long time before he needed to find Anael. What did commoners do to pass the time? He was almost tempted to ask Dean, but a plate got shoved into his hands before he could speak again. He took the food gratefully while Dean ate the meal he'd declined. "Dean, where are we?" Castiel took careful stock of the warm wooden room around them. He sat in a large bed, complete with a fluffy red comforter, quilted with fine silk threads. He admired the oak paneling that echoed the warm reddish light from the candles hung on the wall. There was a large full length mirror next to the dressers, and a wash basin by the door. There was even a painting of the city on a bright colorful market day hanging between the windows. In short, Castiel had no idea where he was.

"Roadhouse," Dean responded. He shoveled some chicken into his mouth greedily. Castiel might have been offended had he not eaten with the hunter before.

"Did you…did you wait for me?"

"Huh?" Dean wiped his hand across his mouth to catch the grease, "Oh, yeah. Figured you wouldn't want to eat alone."

"That was kind of you. Thank you."

"Yeah, sure. No big deal."

"What time is it?" he asked again. There was still sunlight highlighting the dust that drifted past the windows, but he didn't have a good on exactly what part of the afternoon it was.

"The candle at the bar said it was about three." Castiel sighed. As much as he enjoyed being back in his kingdom, he disliked the waiting. It felt like his skin was too tight, like he needed to get up and move and walk and throw his arms about and! Goodness, he was antsy. He made no move to show his discomfort, only bringing his fork to his mouth and chewing. "When are your brother and sister supposed to show up?"

"Sometime during the night."

"Specific." Castiel only shrugged in response. There had not exactly been opportunity to plan more acutely. Dean looked uncomfortable for a moment before asking, "Well, once Sammy gets ahold of Bobby for an update on the hunt, we can go find something to do. If you'd like, I mean."

"That seems acceptable." Castiel's hands wanted to go now. He almost dropped his fork. Dean smiled wildly and stuffed another chunk of chicken in his mouth. "I do have a question, though."

"Shoot."

"Shoot what?" Castiel drew his eyebrows together in confusion. Dean only laughed and waved his hand before prompting Castiel's question in clearer terms. "What exactly were you hunting? Why did you tell the guards it was a demon of all things?"

"Well first of all, those weren't guards."

"What?" Dean chuckled again at Cas's expression.

"They were wearing old armor. It's silver with black cloth now for the King's impending death, right? They were wearing the normal uniform. For _summer_." Castiel thought back to it and realized Dean was right. "Also, their posture was all wrong, and the girl had no clue what she was doing. They both had their visors over their faces so it'd be impossible to identify them, and those swords weren't theirs. Their balances were all wrong."

Castiel looked at Dean with wide eyes. Castiel would never have questioned their behavior or stances at all, but the more Dean talked the more he found Dean was correct.

"You are amazing," was all he could think to say. He immediately regretted the words, and he noticed the tips of Dean's ears flush pink, but other than that, the hunter just grinned awkwardly.

"Uh, thanks, but not really. It's just how I was raised. And Sammy's way better at that kind of thing than I am."

"But you still haven't answered my question."

"Oh, right. The hunt." Dean chewed for another moment, Castiel thanked God that he swallowed before speaking. "We told the truth. We are hunting a demon." The prince felt himself huff out a small laugh. Then he noticed Dean wasn't joking.

"You're serious."

"Yeah."

"But demons don't exist. They're just fairy tales," Castiel was sure of it. Absolutely sure. He'd never seen a demon, never heard of anyone seeing one, and aside from his book of children's tales, he'd never read any accounts of them existing. Dean leaned forward in his chair.

"So are mermaids and unicorns, but they're all out there, frolicking in the forest together." Clearing his throat, Castiel tried to wrap his mind around the idea. "If it makes you feel any better, dragons are a bust." Castiel sighed as he set his plate on the ground.

"But demons? As in creatures of darkness that possess and destroy? "

"Yup. Nasty bastards too. They seem drawn to Celeta, for some reason. Sam and I take about two down every year. All the other hunters in the woods get about three in total, so they're pretty rare creatures, but terrifying and deadly all the same." Dean grabbed a mug from the floor and took a sip from it, slowly. Castiel almost commented on how strange the hunter looked out of his armor and green vest. He caught the words on his tongue. "Something the matter, Cas?"

"If they're so dangerous, why are you and your brother so intent on catching this one? Why not let the other hunters handle it?"

"We're hunting it _because_ it's so dangerous," Dean smirked. But suddenly he was serious. His voice's gravel became rougher and his hands gripped around the mug tighter. "Demons are nasty sons of bitches and I don't want them hurting anyone else's family the way they did ours."

Before Castiel could think of something to say, Dean stood and gestured for Castiel to give him his plate. That done, he walked towards the door; but then he stopped. "When you're feeling up to it, you should come down and get acquainted everyone. Jo's practically dying to meet you." He paused again, but added, "And if you'd like we can go into town and introduce you to some commoner's fun." There was an edge of hopefulness to his voice.

"I think I'd like that." Castiel needed something to take his tumbling mind off the impending transaction with his siblings. Dean offered a quick smile and the door clicked shut after him.

Dean let out a deep breath as he shut the door. He had not meant to let that much slip. Castiel was a prince who only cared about getting home, and yet here Dean was unloading family issues on him like they were close friends instead of the royalty Cas was. Not to mention the fact that he was also the heir apparent. Heading down the stairs, Dean rubbed his knuckle on the crease between his eyebrows. He just needed to get Cas back to his siblings, and then he wouldn't have to worry about the poor guy anymore.

Except Dean had practically asked him to go on a rendezvous. "Crap," Dean muttered under his breath. Except Cas had accepted as if there were nothing wrong with the crown spending time with a lowly hunter.

"What's crap?" Jo ambushed him as he stepped into the bar. She had a pair of trousers and a puffy red shirt on. Her hazel eyes held all sorts of questions for him, but her lips stayed closed. It was obvious that her smart little brain was figuring out the best way to get the information without asking for it.

"You tell me," Dean said offhandedly. He wasn't in the mood to deal with her. He was in the mood for a drink. She settled in a seat next to him and smirked.

"Sam told me about your unrequited love you know."

"The hell? It's not "unrequited love." He's a fucking prince, Jo. He's attractive, but that don't mean a thing and you know it."

"Pam's not gonna wanna touch you if you're all hung up on the prince," she remarked, completely ignoring his denials.

"I'm not hung up-" He grit his teeth and sighed. "Look," he sliced the air with his hands, herding his logic between them, " He's an attractive man. He's also my responsibility at the moment, and if you think I can't keep those two things separated, I'm surprised in your lack of faith." He ignored the way his hands balled up into fists and his shoulders tensed. Jo's smirk fell into an understanding smile.

"You know we've all been there Dean. Love hurts." Dean hated her. He let out a long-suffering sigh before nodding in mock acceptance.

"Thanks, Jo."

"Anything for my idiot kid-brother." She stood as he protested.

"I'm older than you are by two years! And I'm not even your brother!" She only laughed as her blonde head disappeared through the door way to the left of the bar.

Dean took a moment to appreciate the fact that he was really back at the Roadhouse. It had been a while since he and Sam had needed to go to the market to barter and sell, so it must have been about eight months since he'd sat in this tavern or slept in the room Ellen and Jo kept for the brothers. The Roadhouse had been a second home to them since before they could hunt. Often times, if their father didn't leave them with Bobby, he'd leave Sam and Dean with Ellen. He breathed the warm earthy air of the tavern in. It was always a little darker than it should have been at the bar, even with two fireplaces and oil lamps at each table. There were bottles and bottles of liquor lined up on the shelf behind the bar, and a time-teller candle burnt steadily in the shadows.

Ellen had expanded the business and building about three years ago, just before John died. The Roadhouse served as a hotel and restaurant for travelers, specifically hunters, as well as a tavern, and for the most part the women of the place did pretty well. Jo liked to pick pockets when they didn't quite get the revenue they needed. He'd wanted to see Adam, but apparently his whimp of a brother was busy courting some girl down the street. Dean rolled his eyes and stood to follow Jo into the Harvelle's private hall. Ellen and Sam sat in two nice red chairs in front of a fire. Each had a cup of something and they seemed to be engaged in a deep conversation, while Jo sat on the hearth whittling with her father's old knife. He figured Pam must be in the kitchen preparing for the rush sure to come with the night.

As he settled into a chair near Sam, he interrupted the quiet conversation by asking, "You contacted Bobby yet?"

"Shit," Sam replied, standing.

"I guess that's a no," Ellen drawled with a raised eyebrow. Sam huffed and strode out of the room with long, clipped steps. He returned a few moments later with a chalice carved with cyphers and sigils around the lip.

"Jo?" he held a hand out and she passed him the knife with a roll of her eyes. He set the chalice down and crouched near the fired place. Clenching his teeth against the bite of the blade, he slid the knife over his forearm with great care. The blood rolled up and beaded down his arm before dropping into the chalice. Then he chanted under his breath and waited. Dean hated this whole magic thing. It made his stomach roll and his eyes twitch. Sammy was never meant for magic. It had been a terrible, terrible mistake on his part, and now it was irreversible. As useful as it was in certain situations, such as now, it still made Dean's teeth itch with discomfort. After about a minute, Sam started speaking.

"Yeah, yeah. No we're at the Roadhouse now. No, Rufus wasn't there so we brought him with us. Yeah, turns out he's the prince, too." Sam winced as Bobby was sure to have started yelling through the ether that connected him and Sam at the moment. "Well what were we supposed to have done? And it's not like he's useless, either. He took down a hellhound, Bobby! Yeah, fully grown from what I could tell. Castiel, it's Prince Castiel…Yeah I know he's not supposed to have magic. He doesn't know what happened either."

"Ask him about the demon, Sam," Dean insisted. As much of a kick as he got from watching Bobby tear into someone other than himself, they needed to know how the hunt was going so they could be prepared once they met up with their surrogate parent.

"Bobby, no-" Sam rolled his neck in exasperation, "Bobby, listen! No, stop, listen! Has the demon reached the gates yet? Okay, has it taken a host yet? Okay, good, no, good. Once the prince's family shows up to take him back home, we'll meet up with you. Yeah, Ellen's good. So's Jo. Yeah, okay. Bye." He picked the cup up and poured the blood into the fire. Then he let out a long breath and scowled at Dean's grin.

"So?" Dean asked innocently.

"Demon's taken up residency in one of the guardsmen, but hasn't hurt anyone yet. Bobby's keeping an eye on it, and the moment he sees an opening, he's gonna exorcise it."

Dean nodded in approval. "Perfect."

"Is that Dean Winchester I hear in there?" Pam's voice came from the bar. She strode in casually, dressed in her usual corset and trousers. Dean stood, licking his lips before giving her a huge hug and laughing when she squeezed his rear end. "You too, Sam," she said after letting Dean go. Sam smiled and stood. Dean and Jo laughed when he let out a yelp.

"Pam! I've told you to stop that!"

"Sorry, Grumpy, but that rear is just begging to get some action," she smirked. "How long's it been? Two? Three years?"

"Two years," Sam mumbled. Dean saw the warning signs in Sam's countenance. Luckily Jo cut in with a jab in Dean's direction.

"Be careful with Dean, he's fragile right now, Pammy."

"Fragile?" Dean only just caught the sparkle in her eye as she turned to him. Her thin pink lips quirked to the side in a devilish grin. A shiver made its way down Dean's spine. "And how might my baby boy be feeling fragile?"

"I'm not," he protested with a smile. Her long slim fingers traced over his cheek bones. They held eye contact for much longer than was necessary, but Dean didn't care. This was how it always was between them. All play, no seriousness, never too attached.

"Don't let him fool you, Pam," Sam piped up from his seat next to Ellen. "He's got it quite bad for Prince Castiel."

"Oh, shut up," Dean said as he finally glanced away from the beautiful woman in front of him. He was just glad the conversation had switched to his love life instead of Sam's. If that meant he had to play along with their stupid teasing, so be it.

"You should have seen the way he carried him in here, Barney," Jo said with an affectionate wink at Pam. "He was all concerned about not damaging the poor man, and then of all places, he decides the _Honeymoon Suite_ is the best place to put him!" As the blood rushed to his ears, Dean can feel his shoulders locking up in embarrassment. "Mamma just about tossed 'im out in the street when she heard about it!"

"Aw, but Dean wouldn't take advantage of someone like that," Pam chided, threading her fingers in his hair. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He didn't know if it was the way Pam kept teasing or how Ellen and Sam were trying to hide their laughter, or what it was. Honestly, this was how most of their get-togethers ended up. Dean didn't mind the teasing, but this time it just felt…inappropriate.

"Listen, we just gotta get him to his family, and then he'll be out of our hair, okay? I mean, once that's done, Sammy and I can get back to what's really important, right Sam?" Dean didn't like the look on his brother's face when he turned to ask the question. In fact, Ellen's face wasn't much more comforting.

"Yes Dean, that is right."

Pam's hand was suddenly out of his hair and she was three feet away from him. He felt naked without her there to stand between him and the prince. Castiel stood with his feet shoulder's width apart, hands held behind his back. If his ears had been burning before, they were combusting now. He dropped his gaze for a moment to take a deep breath of air before looking up again.

"I would like to thank you, Lady Harvelle, for the use of your rooms here, and for the cordiality with which I was received."

"There ain't no need to call me "Lady", you sweet-talker. Ellen works just fine, dear." Castiel gave a slight smile and a quick bow. He looked back to Dean and his face hardened again.

"And how is the search for the demon coming along?"

"Uh, good," Dean stuttered. He swallowed and rubbed his hands on his trousers nervously. "Sam and Bobby had a chat, and so far, the thing hasn't done any damage. Once we see you off, we're gonna go meet him up and the Gate Station." The prince gave a curt nod and Dean could actually feel the pulse in his neck speed up. This was ridiculous. He coughed a little, ignoring the way everyone was staring at him. "Well, um, I'm going to go take care of Baby. She's got a loose left shoe, so…" And then he strode quickly towards the other doorway in the room. He swore Cas must have been using magic because his frightening blue gaze was leaving burn marks on Dean's back.


	12. Foot in Your Mouth

Castiel could hear the way his feet on the stairs creaked throughout the tavern. He could hear pleasant chatter and laughter coming from below. He wondered how on earth these people could be so kind to each other for such extended periods of time. In his family it was always tight-lipped cordiality when they all came together. Mother would be kind for as long as possible until she couldn't stand the company anymore and threw a bit of a royal tantrum. Lucifer was the same way, but much more violent and vindictive about it. Michael almost never wanted anything to do with anyone but Lucifer and their father. Gabriel and Anael usually liked to keep to themselves, and father, like Castiel, just wanted to get away from everyone.

Yet here was this group of friends, a family, who laughed and teased and never seemed too upset about anything. In truth, Castiel was a little jealous. When he alighted on the ground floor and peered through the doorway into the bright hall, he felt that seed of sin shoot up into a surprising amount of envy. A thin woman with short wavy black hair outlined in a small golden halo had her hand threaded through Dean's locks. What was worse was that Dean was smiling down at her, holding her hips, looking much too intimate.

The thought disappeared as quickly as it bloomed though, as Dean spoke in a tone Castiel had trouble placing. "Listen, we just gotta get him to his family, and then he'll be out of our hair, okay? I mean, once that's done, Sammy and I can get back to what's really important, right Sam?" The prince stepped forward, into the doorway and saw as Sam and Ellen's eyes shifted to him. Their expressions immediately changed from mirthful to surprised and possibly fearful. Dean turned, and a similar change took place.

"Yes Dean, that is right."

His ears turned bright red, as did his cheeks. Castiel might have felt flattered, had he not known why Dean was so embarrassed. It didn't take long for the hunter to fabricate some excuse and flee the scene. Castiel did not sit, only stood gazing out at the people around him. The psychic seemed the most uncomfortable and mumbled about finishing up the food. Sam slipped away to help her, and Ellen excused herself to go take care of some tax work. Jo sat at the hearth, her father's blade back in her hand, watching Castiel with an unwavering stare.

"You really are quite the looker, aren't you?" she said finally. Castiel was uncertain how to respond.

"I, uh, thank you." Jo just shrugged and turned her attention back to the knife. She had the blade point to the brick, and the end of the hilt balanced under the tip of her index finger.

"Wasn't a compliment," she said with a small grin. It was almost as if she were keeping some secret and chastising herself for almost letting on. "But I can definitely see why all the villagers like you so much." Castiel almost did catch the sentence.

"Excuse me?"

"All the village folk have been talkin' about you. The gossip's been much juicier lately." Castiel still didn't understand. A playful tilt of her lips showed she wasn't finished with him just yet. "Well there are some boys and girls who've been pining after you since they knew they could. Engagement or no engagement, that don't stop 'em from thinking about you. There's a girl a few hovels over, Daphne I think her name is, that's got quite the infatuation with you, boy."

Castiel opened his mouth, but finding no words, simply closed it again. He must not have looked too regal then, because Jo let out a tinkling laugh. As the blood rose in the princes cheeks, he swallowed and looked at his boots.

"And then this gossip, ohhh, you got yourself in deep! There's a rumor saying you ran out on old King Chuck because his death was too upsetting, but I think there's more to the story than that. I think you royal types are just playing the little people like you always do. I tried to get Dean and Sam to confirm a few theories, but their lips are sealed." She paused and stood, pocketing the knife. "I can see why Dean was so eager to help with a pretty face like that."

"Y-you don't need to flatter me."

"Not trying to," she rolled her eyes. She began walking around him, sizing him up in a predatory manner. He found his shoulders hunching without his consent. "I'm just curious as to what your intentions are."

"M-my intentions?" Jo raised her eyebrows as if she were dealing with the densest child in the entire city. Castiel almost felt offended at her tone, except he was too busy being confused by her words. Was she speaking about his intentions in general? Battle tactic-wise? Or romantically? Did she know he had a strange attraction to the way Dean's hands moved or the way his voice sounded? Or how the anger in his throat ad embarrassment in his chest still weighed him down like stones? He blinked twice at the strange passing flurry of thought.

"That's right. What are you hoping to gain from befriending my brothers?"

"I want to get home. That is all." Looking from her hands to her face, Castiel took a step backwards. She still looked skeptical, but relented.

"That so…" it wasn't a question. Finally feeling like the prince he was, he straightened up and stared her down.

"Are you always this brusque with people of a higher class than yourself?"

"Oh, honey," she chided, "I think you'll find that class is just a word 'round these parts. Plus you ain't the one paying, so I feel no need to placate you," she waved a finger in his face as she drawled the words out. She then flipped her hair and walked cattily out of the room. Castiel's mind went blank. What had all that been about? Jo somehow managed to mix compliment with insult in such a way that the prince had no gauge on how she felt about his presence, other than not existing to serve him. After trying to gather his thoughts about him, he stepped over to the fire. He held his hands out to warm them. He wasn't particularly cold at the moment, but found the familiar heat on his hands comforting. No matter where he went, fire was always hot. He sighed into the moment an let his eyes wander over the mantel piece. Mostly it was filled with small pencil sketches and paintings, but a knife and odd bottle of potion helped decorate the oak furnishing nicely. He didn't want to confront Dean just yet, so he waited a while longer. He wanted his anger to simmer down if he was going to speak to the hunter. He thought they were friends. Apparently, Castiel did not know enough about the topic to discern a real friend from someone who was just tolerating his presence. He harrumphed at the thought before shaking it out of his ears and rubbing his palms together.

He licked his lips before following the door out towards the stables. Immediately upon stepping out of the stone building, he shivered. He really ought to have found a coat. It was going to be a terrible winter if the wind now had any say about the matter. He huddled against himself and plowed on towards where Dean was.

This stable was much nicer than Old Knight Turner's had been. It looked sturdy, with dark brown beams jutting straight out of the ground at every wall juncture. There was a large loft above, full of hay, and each of the dozen stalls were roomy enough for at least two horses. As he walked through the horse-lined hall, he could hear Dean speaking. His tone was cooing, almost tender and Castiel figured he must be tending to Baby. Sure enough, as he rounded the corner, back into the cool chill of the wind, Dean was just finishing up cleaning one of Baby's back hooves. Without looking up, Dean spoke.

"That you Jo? You wanna hand me the brush by the door?" Castiel bent to pick up the curry comb Dean referred to and handed it to him. Dean's thumb brushed over the prince's knuckles. The hunter froze at the touch and whipped his head around to see who it was. He let out a deep sigh when he saw Castiel. All the disappointment and humiliation crept back into Castiel's blood as Dean bit his bottom lip like he was trying to figure out what to say.

"Cas, I'm-"

"I'm sorry you feel that helping me is such a burden, Dean." Castiel never knew how to start conversations, so he figured jumping right in would work. Unfortunately Dean's jaw clenched and he turned away abruptly. Castiel didn't like the way the hunter just closed off. "I was under the impression that you were helping of your own free will." Dean had one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his forehead. "I see now that that was foolish of m-"

"Cas, will you shut up a second? I get that you're not used to having people treat you like anything other than the prince, but just…can it would you?" Castiel quieted in shock. Dean let out another sigh and faced the prince again. "Look, I don't exactly do the whole "friends" thing that often, alight?" he held his hands out slightly to each side of himself and looked for confirmation. When he got it, he continued, "So now that Sammy and everyone else knows that we're friends, they're gonna tease me about it, and I'm an idiot who doesn't know how to deal with it, so I stick my foot in my mouth at every possible moment, okay? And that's…that's what you saw." Cas thought about it for a moment, drawing his eyebrows together as he tried to understand it. "That's as close of an apology as you're gonna get from me, so I'd appreciate a little feedback here, Cas."

It sounded like Dean was saying he regretted his words, but the strange phrase threw Prince Castiel off. He pondered it for a moment until Dean coughed a little and cracked his knuckled nervously.

"I never saw you with your foot in your mouth," Cas mumbled. He didn't know what he had expected from Dean, but it definitely was not for the hunter to burst out laughing. "What's so humorous?"

"It's a saying, Cas. Putting your foot in your mouth," Dean stood straight and clasped Castiel on the shoulder. "It means I said something I didn't really mean, and it came back to bite me in the ass."

Castiel relaxed his gaze and tilted his head. He wanted to smile back at Dean, but the expression felt strange, so he settled for a nod. "Oh, I see." Dean picked the brush up off the ground where he had dropped it. The first few strokes over Baby's dark flanks caused her to snort happily, and Dean responded with a mute laugh. Castiel watched closely. He'd seen some of the stable hands at the palace groom the horses before, but he'd never watched this closely. Dean noticed his interest, and pausing, he held the brush out to the prince.

"You wanna try?"

"Oh, um, I suppose I could," Cas turned his eyes to the ground as Dean flashed him another lop-sided grin. Dean handed him the brush, but didn't back away when Cas stepped up. A knot tied itself into the prince's belly as he put the brush to Baby's back.

"Cas?"

"Yes Dean?"

"You're gonna have to actually move the brush."

"Right." Apparently, Dean found his technique unsatisfactory, and took Castiel's hand after a few passes of the brush.

"No, like this. Baby's a tough girl, she can handle a little pressure." Dean's hand on his made rough, harsh stokes over the horse's back. Castiel tried to imitate as best as he could, but found Dean's presence so close behind him distracting. "I'm guessing you've never done this kind of thing before."

"No. There were servants for that."

"I'll bet you've got servants for everything, don't you?"

"For everything that is unfit for us to do, yes." Dean's hand left his, and he settled with his back against the whitewashed stable wall. There were a few evergreen trees separating Ellen's property from that of another peasant. Chicken coups and stables were just visible between the trees. Castiel kept at the grooming just like Dean had showed him, furiously concentrated on the task.

"And what else could be unfit for you to do?"

"Cooking, cleaning, running messages, making security rounds. Things I'm assuming you do every day." Dean huffed in agreement, crossing his arms. Castiel moved down to Baby's shoulder and then her belly in silence. He took her in, admiring just how beautiful of an animal she really was; all sleek black hair and shining hooves, A white star on her forehead and a long smooth mane. He sighed into one of his strokes and felt it pull him back. The only sounds between the two were Dean's deep breaths, Baby's occasional stamp, and the constant sound of the comb on her flank.

Finally, Dean said, "Do you think you're up to exploring the town?" Cas paused his brushing and turned away from Baby. He tilted his head in thought, then looked at the sky and muttered something under his breath. "What was that?"

"Yes, I think I'd enjoy that."

"Alright then, let's go." Dean took Baby's saddle off a rack nearby and slapped it down on her back with a cheeky grin at Cas. He seemed to speak to no one. "Sam is never gonna let me live this one down."


	13. Market Place

For a while the ride was silent. Dean cherished the way his leather gloves felt on his hands, loved the power he felt holding onto Baby's reins. It was even nicer with a warm body behind him, and hands lightly holding his waist. He liked the way sometimes when Cas thought he wasn't paying attention, he would "accidently" bump his nose into the back of Dean's neck. They were just entering the cobblestone streets of the market place when a thought occurred to Dean.

"We're not gonna be in any sort of danger, right?"

"How do you mean?" Dean shivered. He hadn't realized how close Cas's mouth was to his ear.

"Well, if your brothers still want you dead, they'll have guards after you won't they?" Dean couldn't see it, but he could hear one of Castiel's rare smiles through his voice.

"Well yes, but I hardly think they'll recognize me in this manner of dress." The only item of outstanding value Castiel wore now was that perfectly blue brooch that matched his eyes. Dean had been meaning to ask its significance, but never found the moment. Castiel's face was also much scruffier, dirtier looking than it did when they had first met. He had a bit of a light beard coming in and his pretty pale skin had a darker, heartier undertone to it. Castiel was still recognizable, but not obviously royalty. "And it's not as though the peasants and merchants know what I look like, so I doubt we'll have any trouble on that end either."

"Well," Dean teased, "That might not be so true. You and your siblings are quite the subject of peasant fantasy."

"Jo said something similar earlier. But I don't understand."

"Your portraits are a popular item in the print section of the market," Dean grinned.

"People bargain for pictures of us? Why?"

"Yeah see, I think a lot of the population finds you angel-babies attractive in the physical sense. I know I've seen my share of young adults swooning over portraits of your family. From my understanding, you and Michael are tied for sales at the moment." Dean made that last part up just to gauge the prince's reaction and he had to say he was not disappointed.

"That's-what? Why?" The prince stuttered and balked at the information and his fingers tightened around Dean's waist. "Why on earth would they partake in such nonsense?"

"You're kind of royalty, Cas. Educated, well cared for. The whole package, you know? Beside haven't you ever had an "infatuation" before?" Again, Cas began half sentences and flushed red.

"No! I have not! I hardly have time for such diversion," the prince lied through his teeth.

"That's just sad," Dean commented shaking his head, "I still remember my first one. Lisa of the Braeden's. A dance teacher in the aristocrats' place, oh she was perfect. Long brown curls and such a pretty smile."

"Wh-what happened? Why didn't you court her if you were so enchanted?" Dean only shrugged, guiding Baby carefully around a merchant's stall that had fallen into the street.

"Wasn't meant to be. She had a kid and she was almost ten years older than me. And as I got to know her…it just kind of burned out. Didn't feel the same rush when I was around her."

"I see."

"No you don't," Dean grinned and turned to look at Castiel. "You can't know what that's like until you've experienced it firsthand. Oh, and there's always the fighting! You should have seen me and Benny de la Fitte. He was great too, but he could really get on my nerves."

"He?"

"Yeah. His accent? Jesus, it was beautiful. But he and Sammy didn't get along too well and it kind of carried over into our relationship and it ended pretty messy. Plus he kind of had a pirate ship to run, so…"

"_He_?" Castiel emphasized.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Benny was a guy. What of it?"

"Nothing, I just…I didn't realize you…" Dean just laughed again. Cas could be really dense sometimes, but Dean found it endearing.

"I'm not going to argue about what's below the belt, Cas."

"My brothers are the same way."

"That so?" Dean was really more curious about Cas, but he didn't want to frighten the prince off by being brash. "What about the princess?"

"Anael is not particularly interested in other women, but there have been occasions."

"Interesting."

"What about your brother, Sam?"

"Sam's not much in the way of men. He likes the ladies too much, I think." He wanted to just ask. Just throw away his reservations and ask it! But he couldn't bring himself to. So instead he started rambling. "You know when I was younger and my dad brought me to the mage of the lower town, she told me I was going to marry Anael."

"What?" Cas actually showed signs of surprise and Dean's lips twitched back into a smile.

"Yeah, my prophecy was "in a time of distress, the boy will marry his princess," and there was only one princess at the time. Still is only one."

"Oh," Castiel pondered for a moment. "You don't seem too confident about it."

"Well as much as I love Missouri and all, I just can't see myself and the princess having any excuse to…you know, tie the knot."

"I don't have much faith in the mages either."

"Yeah, that's right. You were the prince that-"

"They warned against, yes. And I can't say that my own feelings have remained partitioned from my judgment of them."

"Small words, Cas."

"They didn't want me so I dislike them."

"Reasonable," Dean commented. Suddenly he turned in the saddle and reached into a bag near Cas's shin. He pulled out a scrap of parchment with illegible scrawl drawn on it. "Okay, so we need to visit the brewers and the bakers and God knows Sam needs more vegetables."

"What?"

"Did you think we were just gonna spend some quality time together with Baby? Ellen gave me a list. Oh and after the farmers, we're gonna need to visit the carpenters. Some asshole broke three of Ellen's stools." Dean tucked the parchment into his shirt and snapped Baby's reins.

The blacksmiths were on the outskirts of the markets, due to the fact that it was difficult to haul all their product back and forth. Then came the tanners and carpenters, so Dean contracted one to come by the Roadhouse and take a look at the chair style later that afternoon. After that were the farmers and butchers, so Dean had Cas try to purchase some basic items. Some lettuce, meal, and anything he thought looked nice. Castiel foundered until Dean came back from the butcher's with a large hock of what looked like cured ham. They collected their purchases before heading deeper into the baker's section of the market place. Dean contracted Ellen's usual baker/brewer for one hundred rolls and measures of ale to be delivered by the end of the market days. After that, came the less necessary things like silks and spices and trinkets from other kingdoms.

Up until this point, Dean had been paying for everything with a small bag of gold Ellen had given to him. But once the tent covers changed from shoddy-looking canvas, to finer black velvet or silk, Dean brought out some rolls of fur. He traded two pure white buck skins for a large bag of salt and some sort of stripped fluffy skin for a measure of white fabric. Castiel was amazed at how easily Dean seemed to fit in and communicate. Several times he caught some of the stall tenders looking his friend up and down.

"Why do they do that?"

"Do what?" Dean said munching on a pastry he had bought earlier. Cas had one too, but had finished it much quicker. Dean held Baby's reins tightly as he led the horse through the scattered crowds and turns and corners of the uneven streets.

"They look you from head to toe, and then they seem to never give you eye contact."

"Well, not everyone gives as much eye contact as you, Cas," Dean shrugged with a smirk. Cas stiffened and a worried edge crept into his voice.

"Is it wrong to give eye contact?"

"N-no Cas, I was joking." Dean's smile stayed as he huffed out a laugh. "I guess they do it 'cause they think I'm attractive."

"Then why wouldn't they look you in the eye?"

Dean puffed out his chest, "Other places to look I guess." There was a beat before Dean opened his mouth again. "Honestly, I thought you'd be asking why they did it to you before asking it about me."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well not for nothin' Cas, but quite a few of those guys at the last stall were giving you the sex eye." Cas could feel his cheeks flushing and silently cursed himself.

"Wh-why would they do that? That's so uncomfortable."

"Eh, just take it as a compliment, I guess. That's how I get over it. Hooray, you're attractive," Dean said in a rather unamused tone as he waved Baby's reins around in the air as a mock celebration. "Either way, it's great for conning."

"Conning?"

"Yeah, a guy thinks you can't take him in ring-peg so you con him into playing, lose the first couple rounds when the pot is small, then when it starts getting better, you take it all. All because the guy's too busy looking at your ass to realize you're throwing the game."

Cas just looked at Dean with a million questions etched into his face. He shook his head and swallowed. "What is "ring-peg"?" he asked.

"You've never played ring-peg?!" Dean got animated. "Aw, man, remind me to show you how when we get back to the Roadhouse. It's a simple bar game that people play. It's great, all about aim and power." Dean smiled and swiped at his nose with his thumb. "The last thing on the list is…oh, holy water. Gotta go to the church for that one."

The last stop didn't take very long, as the priest, or "padre" as Dean called him seemed to know Dean. They clasped hands, and pulled each other into a big hug before Dean told the man all about the demon he and Sam were hunting and explained that once they helped out Cas (Dean referred to him as Jimmy, much to Cas's relief) they'd be on their way to hunting it down and exorcising it.

"Have you been looking at those maps I gave you?"

"Yeah, Sammy's still working on a theory, but there's just not enough information, you know?"

"I'm telling you, there's just something about Dema that bothers me," the priest shook his head.

"I'm all for storming the gates, Padre, but Sam's insisting we find more proof."

"No, he's right. We don't have enough to alert the guard, and now with the king in such awful health…" Dean noticed Cas's shoulders tighten at the mention of his father. "It'd be best until Prince Michael takes the throne and there's more conclusive proof."

"So Michael will be taking the throne?" Cas blurted out. He must have sounded odd referring to the prince without using a title, but Castiel just ignored the priest's odd look and waited patiently for an answer.

"Ah, yes, at least from the proclamation that came out this morning. He's supposed to take over once the king leaves us." Castiel nodded with a deep sigh. He'd honestly hoped that Gabriel or Anael would have stepped up and taken responsibility, but he also did not blame them.

They left the small wooden church with a clay jug full of holy water. Baby's saddle bags were almost comically laden with bags and jars and even a box. Castiel was a bit nervous about mounting behind Dean again because he was almost certain the hunter was aware of how close Cas kept getting. It was so difficult to stay away though, with Dean's hair smelling like the harvest and warm bread. He needed to focus on meeting Anael tonight. He thought back to Dean's prophecy and sighed into Dean's neck. If the mage had said it would happen, it would happen. He didn't know why that was such an upsetting thought.

"So are you guys just high-tailing it back to the castle, or are you gonna stay until the market days are over?"

"Hmm? Oh, I have no idea what Anael has planned."

"Oh. I got another question for you then."

"What's that?"

"Have you ever been to the Market Balls?" Cas shuddered at the mention of a dance. They were such terribly stuffy affairs. Each nobleman asking how the other was doing, but not really listening to the answer, all politics, who's talking to who, men trying to marry off their boys and girls to the wealthiest family. It was sickening to Cas.

"No, although I'm not inclined to dancing."

"That's fine, princess. If it makes you feel any better, I've got two left feet too. Doesn't mean I can't enjoy the ball."

"You don't have two left feet, I can see the right one clearly from here."

"Sometimes I can't tell if you're being serious or joking."

"I will admit that was an attempt at humor." Castiel didn't expect Dean to let out a hearty chuckle at his offhanded comment, but when he did, Cas felt his lips tug upwards and his stomach flip.

"Well, the Market Balls aren't really _balls_ per say. They're more of," Dean used his free hand to gesture vaguely at the air, "a collection of merchants trying to spend a little money with some dancing on the side. It's just a giant party with a bunch of drunk people singing and having fun."

"That sounds much more entertaining than the balls my mother throws."

"What? You mean Queen Rebecca throws a lousy party?"

"Unfortunately, yes. The only redeeming factor is that she likes to play matchmaker with my siblings. She's terrible at it, and Gabriel's reactions are quite entertaining." Dean laughed again, softer, but with enthusiasm.

"Well if you can manage it, I'm sure Ellen would love to have you stay for the Ball this week. The Roadhouse is famous for its celebration pies!" They meandered through the middle rings of the cobblestone marketplace. As the sun set lower in the sky, more people came out from their homes. It looked as though a few nobles had even deemed it worth leaving the house before six to look for silks and furs.

The ride back was mostly silent, Cas mulling over all the things he'd seen and learned, from the failed attempt at consumerism to the revelation about Michael's inheritance; Dean trying to keep his God damn mouth shut. He tried to ignore the fact that he had basically asked Cas for another rendezvous, but couldn't help silently berating himself for being such a fool.

They unpacked all he bags once they made it back to the Roadhouse. Sammy was ecstatic about the fresh vegetables, and Jo took all the grain and meal to store separately. Ellen waited by the door for the carpenter and brewer to show up. Dean grabbed the swatch of white fabric and disappeared up the stairs towards the room he shared with Sam. Sitting at the bar, watching the time candle melt and the people around him change, Castiel waited for his sister in silence.


	14. Princess Anael

"So your siblings are just supposed to waltz on in here and collect ya'?" Ellen asked from across the bar. There were all sorts of people laughing and drinking and generally having a good time. Two girls were getting dangerously promiscuous with each other in the back corner while a group of four guardsmen were starting to get rowdy. Ellen cast the latter group a wary look before turning back to Castiel.

"I suppose. We didn't exactly get around to planning the details."

"How on earth are you gonna find them in this hellhole?"

"Anael tends to stick out, trust me." It was another half an hour –at least according to the time candle behind Ellen –before a flash of red hair caught the prince's attention. He stood without a word and made his way to one of the back tables where his sister sat serenely gazing at the green glass lamp hanging over her head.

"Mistress Milton," Castiel greeted.

"Lord Novak," Anael replied. Castiel sat across from her and they both let out a relieved sigh. "I'm always afraid that one of these days a doppelganger or shifter is going to catch us off guard."

"Understandable." Castiel felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate. "So is it safe for me to return home? I must say I've had quite enough of the country for a while."

"Yes, it's safe for you to return. There are some things though." Anael once again grew uncomfortable. She lifted two hands to massage the back of her neck and hissed.

"Things?" Castiel couldn't help but ask.

"Yes. Things I would be more comfortable discussing back at the hovel." Castiel nodded solemnly at the code word. Jo suddenly appeared at the table.

"Now what can I get the lord and lady?" Castiel offered a silent prayer that Jo had enough tact not to refer to them by their proper titles.

"If there's cider and turkey…," Anael replied. Jo pursed her lips and nodded.

"Yeah, we got that." Castiel was completely flustered when both of the girls turned to him.

"Um, th-the same, if you would."

"Right up," Jo sauntered away.

"What is the plan now?" Castiel whispered across the dark wooden table.

"I plan upon spending the night here, if you can wait that long. It's getting too late to travel, lest we get waylaid." Castiel bobbed his head in agreement. "Besides, I'd like to hear about your experience in the Between Woods, if you don't mind. By the way, where is Old Knight Turner?"

"Supposedly in the market, but that's…complicated. I should start with the hell hound."

"The hell hound!" Anael exclaimed. "What hell hound?"

"It ambushed me not even two hours into the forest. Spooked my horse off, and with it, all my supplies."

"Oh, Cassie! How on earth…?"

"Hunters, Anael. Hunters found me, and what's more is they helped me."

"Hunters did that?" Castiel confirmed it. "What family were they from?"

Castiel opened his mouth to answer when he realized he'd never asked. "I-I don't know their family name. I never thought to ask." Anael rolled her eyes.

"Cassie! How do you know they aren't planning something? What if they're from the Walker family?"

"No, Anael, they're not-" he bit his lip as he thought of how to say it. "Dean could have stolen the brooch mother gave me, yet here it sits." He touched the gem at his throat as he said it.

"Dean? As in Dean of the Winchester family?"

"P-possibly." Honestly, Castiel had been more concerned with his own family than that of the men who'd saved him.

"You were very lucky, then, to have Old Knight John's boy find you."

"It wasn't just Dean. His brother, Sam, healed me."

"I had heard that one of the Winchester boys had magic," she mused. Jo reappeared with two steaming plates of food, set them down, and then went back to the bar for their ciders. The two waited patiently until they had everything before beginning their meals. Anael let out a surprised grunt when she ate her first bite. Castiel could only smile at her excite reaction. "Castiel, this is," she shook her head, "this is amazing! Do peasants eat like this all the time? This is far better than anything the hovel kitchen serves!"

"Not really," a gravelly voice rolled in from behind Castiel. Recognizing the voice, Cas went rigid. "There's just a lot more salt on it is all," Dean continued. He pulled up a chair from another table and sat next to the prince. He let out a slow whistle. "I knew you royal types were supposed to be pretty, but damn, Cas, this is your sister?" Anael dipped her head and Cas could just make out the faint redness of blush in the low lighting. A gnawing rose up in his stomach, and for a moment he thought he might be hungry, but that didn't make much sense considering where he was.

"Anael, this is Dean. One of the hunters who saved me."

"Ah, don't be so modest, Cas. You saved our skins too." Cas felt a shiver go up his spine when Dean winked at him.

"Cassie?" Aneal questioned.

"Apparently, I have magic, sister." Her mouth fell open a bit, her perfect pink lips forming an "O". Her eyes flicked wide as she stared.

"H-how? But how?"

"I don't know. It just happened. The hell hound was attacking the brothers and-"

"And Cas here lit up like a bonfire," Dean finished. "Wings, halo, glowing eyes and everything." Anael's eyes stuttered from her brother back to Dean. As much as he hated to admit it, he noticed the way she studied the hunter with deep scrutiny. Cas dabbed at his mouth with the provided napkin and stood.

"Good night. I am retiring."

"Already, Cas? You mind if I finish it off then?" Dean gestured to the half touched plate of turkey, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Castiel gave him permission, received his kiss from Anael, then retreated up the stairs toward his bed.

Dean had only noticed Cas's disappearance from the bar when Jo pointed it out to him. It wasn't that Dean didn't care, or wasn't paying attention, he just figured that Cas could take care of himself. Besides, there was no point in hovering around the guy if he needed to have a special family talk with whoever was coming to collect him. So Dean and Pamela flirted around the kitchen together. Pam complimented him on his breads and beef dishes, saying he'd improved since the last time. When Jo shouted that Cas was talking with a pretty girl in the back booth, Pam dismissed him with a "go make sure your pretty little angel's gonna be okay." Of course he'd grumbled about the particulars of the sentence, but decided to just take it as a blessing that Pam wasn't anymore vulgar.

The two were hunched together in the darkest corner of the tavern with only a single oil lamp illuminating the table. The girl was almost as breath taking as Cas, in Dean's opinion. She had long red hair, like spun copper, and big eyes and the same pale skin as Cas. Her face lit up as she took her first bite of food, and Dean couldn't stand silent anymore.

"Anael, this is Dean, one of the hunters who saved me." Castiel's tone grated against dean's nerves. It was as if Cas had reverted back into the stuffy noble he had found held to a tree with a knife. Well Cas was still pretty stuffy, but Dean had thought they'd gotten past the formalities. Why not introduce Dean as a friend? Dean faked his smile and settled into flirting instead. Ana was pretty, so why not? It's not like there was any chance, regardless of the Missouri's prediction. When Castiel abruptly left the table, Dean dug into his leftovers. Anael was mostly silent at first. She made little sniffing noises or giggles when she tried a new bite of food, but was almost awkwardly quiet to be honest. She dabbed at her cupid's bow lips in much the same way Castiel had done before moving to exit, and then stared at Dean in a piercing way.

"I want to thank you for helping keep my little brother safe."

"It was no problem at all, Your Highness." She jumped and glanced around.

"Please, call me Lady. I don't want to disrupt anything."

"Oh, of course, Lady. Cas's situation was partially our fault, so there is no debt."

"You are mistaken. There is always a debt," the princess smiled at him. He decided she had a pretty smile. "You personally assisted a member of the royal family. Not many guardsmen can say so much. You brought him back to me safely and in one piece when he should have died."

"Well, again, he saved our asses too, so he was really more of a blessing than a burden."

"Yes, I suppose he was, wasn't he?" Dean didn't like the way she was looking at him. He felt like she was using her magic to reach into his skull and extracting his life story. "I noticed his halo was glowing brighter than I've ever seen it before. I figured it had to do with the healing your brother performed, but this is…different."

"Oh, yeah, magic users can see that all the time, can't they," Dean smiled. She nodded slowly in confirmation.

"Interesting…" she mumbled to herself. Dean played with the vegetables on his plate. "In fact, his is glowing with almost the same intensity as those possessed by Michael and Lucifer."

"Oh, speaking of, we heard Michael's getting the inheritance. That true?" Dean asked.

"Oh, yes, of course. I should have mentioned it with Castiel, or should I say "Cas"?" Dean's smile grew and he lowered his head.

"Yeah, it's easier to say. I hope you don't mind if I call you Ana. You upper class people just have hard names." Ana laughed at his abashment.

"I do not mind. Although I can only imagine the names you would come up with for Balthazar or Inias."

"B-Balthazar? I don't like the sound of that one," Dean griped. Ana giggled again, much to Dean's delight. "Oh, if you want, I can show you to your room, Lady Ana. You're right next to Cas."

"Thank you, I'd appreciate it, Sir Dean." The hunter balked as he stood but then beamed at the princess who returned his smile.

"I'm going to call you Clarence. That was the name of my puppy before Lilith threw him in the moat."

Castiel wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Daddy says that there are crocodiles in the moat so I can never go down to play in it. Isn't that a shame, Clarence?" Meg sat on one of the window sills, looking out over the cloudy land of Dema. Her curly brown hair framed her pudgy round face quite attractively and her tiny legs folded up underneath her bottom so she could get a better look. "I don't really want to marry you."

"O-oh." Was all Castiel could manage to say.

"Don't worry, Clarence, it's got nothing to do with you," she turned her head to smile at him. "I just don't wanna get married at all. I wanna go out into the forest and see things. Like in that book of yours."

"I-I don't want to marry you either," the prince admitted. He looked down at his tiny fingers over the illuminations of his book. Meg nodded at him and went back to staring out the window.

"We're too young. I can barely shoot an arrow straight and they want me to meet my future husband. That seems too fast." She hopped off the ledge and sat on the floor next to him. She was close enough to brush shoulders with him, her long sleeves catching on the stitches of the ribbons sewn into his shirt.

"But I'd have to say that if I've got to marry one of you silly Celetan people, I'm glad it's you."

"I'm glad I won't have to marry Lilith."

"Me too," Meg joked. "Now tell me another story, Clarence. I like your voice."

The stones of the bright castle room shifted into darkness, the turrets outside changed to trees in the blink of an eye. Castiel's own heavy breathing and rushed pulse were the only things he could hear as he raced for his life. A disturbing, earth wrenching howl echoed behind him. He tossed a look over his shoulder and cried out when he saw the hell hound bounding after him. He cried out for Gabriel, Aneal, and then Sam and Dean, but it seemed like the more effort he made, the slower his progress became.

He felt his foot catch on a root and the world rush up to meet him. His last thought was that he wished he'd gotten to see his home once more before he died. But as the thought passed, he jolted awake.

His hands were shaking terribly, and his sheets were damp from his sweat. He passed a hand over his forehead, then through his hair, shuddering at the memory. It was wrong. That's not how either event had happened. Meg and he had agreed that it was best they marry. There had been no discussion of their mutual distaste for the practice. The hellhound hadn't…he was still alive.

But as he sat with his sheets thrown back, the window letting in such bright sunlight, and bird singing in the air as they caught breakfast, Castiel forgot it. It shrunk into nothing more than a little bit of discomfort at the base of his skull.

He flopped backwards into the soft warmth of his sheets, ignoring their sticky uncomfortable feeling. He wondered what time it was. Couldn't be more than ten, but it was definitely after seven. He should probably get up. He assumed that Anael would complain about leaving so "late", but she was most likely still asleep. He could just hear some clanging and cheerful voices from the kitchen below. He supposed he ought to get dressed and help Anael prepare for their trip home. He took up and put on the clothes Sam and Dean had provided him, and, as always, placed his brooch in its place under his Adam's apple.

When he reached for the door handle, he hesitated. Then he took it and turned it, accepting whatever waited for him at the bottom of the stair case.

As he stepped into the bar, a young man who looked similar to Dean rushed by, almost knocking the prince off his feet.

"Oh, sorry, sir. Didn't see you there," he called back before he continued rushing towards the kitchen. Dean laughed from one of the tables. He sat with the psychic woman, Jo, and Sam, all eating a warm breakfast of leftover turkey and potatoes.

"That's Adam, by the way. Late to work," Jo smirked as she took a long drink out of her mug. "Spent too much time courting that pretty little girl a few shacks over, huh Adam?" she called back. The only response was an angry sounding, "Shut it Jo!"

"Awww, did somebody get rejected?" Adam poked his head out the door and scowled.

"Ok, fine, yeah. I got rejected. Happy now?" The room was silent. Castiel stood awkwardly, hoping for someone else to speak before him. Dean and the psychic woman were poking their food around their plate while Sam pretended to be reading and Jo rolled her shoulders in discomfort.

"Jesus, Adam. I'm sorry," Jo bit her lip. Adam only sighed.

"It's fine. Just a little disappointing. Anyway what's up for tonight?"

"Usual," the dark haired woman replied.

"Cas, c'mon, join us for breakfast," Dean smiled as he grabbed a chair from another table. "I don't think you and Pam have been properly introduced."

"No, I believe not." Cas bowed to her and said, in formal greeting, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Pamela." Then he sat down next to Dean. Her lips slid into a sly grin.

"Wow Dean, you better watch out. That prince of yours can have my bed anytime if he's gonna treat me like that."

"He's like that with everyone, Pammy," Dean rolled his eyes. "Aren't you, Princess?" Castiel gaped at them for a moment. Did Pamela mean sex when she said he could have her bed? What was Dean implying? He blinked a few times.

"Are you suggesting we have relations?" he asked. Jo spit her milk all over Sam and Pamela dropped her fork. Dean huffed once or twice and for an instant, Castiel thought he might be choking. Then he realized his friend was laughing.

"I like this one, Dean. You better come back down and visit after you get all your family stuff figured out, you hear me?" Pam said as she leaned over the table. Castiel balked but replied with a noncommittal answer. He had rarely had any time or desire to leave the castle before this adventure. He wasn't sure whether that had changed.

"Where is Anael?" he asked.

"Ana? I think she's still sleeping. She had a late night," Dean replied. "So did you," he added.

"I see."

"You want me to go wake her up?" Jo volunteered. She had wiped up most of her mess and currently had a cloth to Sam's cheek.

"I would appreciate that, yes." She finished up making sure Sam wasn't covered in milk before climbing back up the stairs on the other side of the room.

"Now, I don't mean to flatter you Cas," Pamela said smugly, "but that is quite the halo you've got going on there." She pointed and made a small arcing motion over Castiel's head. He looked up for a moment, forgetting that he wouldn't be able to see it.

"Yeah, it got brighter after the hellhound incident," Sam chimed in. "I'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that he hadn't reached his full potential. Before it was barely there at all. Most the time, I couldn't even see it."

"Strange," Pam muttered, "The powers usually come at puberty. I mean, that's when most natural users realize." Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Cassie, how old are you?"

"I am twenty, Pamela."

"So formal! Call me what you like, honey." Castiel nodded. "So it's safe to say that you're a late bloomer. And I'm supposing you haven't had any recent contact with demons, have you?"

"N-no. I only just learned that they were real." Pam leaned back in her chair and pursed her lips.

"So there was a hellhound?"

"Yes."

"And Dean was in danger of getting eaten?"

"It was likely, yes."

"Hmm, interesting."

"What? Why'd his powers suddenly burst to life like that?" Sam questioned.

"No idea," came Pam's reply. "I'm no expert on these things. He'll probably have to wait for some fancy magic healer at the castle to diagnose him."

"Good morning Cassie," Castiel heard from the stairway.

"Anael," he greeted as she and Jo emerged into the bar. She wasn't wearing her riding cloak which meant that Castiel had a little while before they would leave. Jo brought yet another chair over and seated Anael as proper custom dictated. Both Castiel and Anael were impressed by her knowledge of manners since the rest of the group seemed to have forgotten. Sam got up once Anael was finished with her meal, and Pam followed quickly after. Castiel and Anael went back up to their rooms to prepare for their depature. Castiel, who had no belongings sat and looked out the large window at the trees behind the lodge.

Pam shrieked and a something metal crashed in the kitchen, clanging against the tiled flooring. Dean shot up and raced in to find Sam on the ground holding his head and groaning with a spilt pot of vegetables next to him. Pam was bent over trying to help him get to his feet.

"It's fine, it's fine, Pam. It's just Bobby," Dean's little brother grunted. He stood up shakily. Dean frowned when he had to hold onto the wooden counter to maintain his balance. Sam took a deep breath and shut his eyes. "Yeah, we're just about to set Cas on his way. Uh-huh. No, yeah. Seriously? Oh, okay." He opened his eyes and glanced nervously at Dean. "Okay. So we'll just shack up with Ellen until you get here? A week? Where are you? Oh, so you're just…"

"A week? What is he talking about?" Dean demanded. Sam held up a finger to tell him to wait.

"Okay, a little less than? Yeah. Well of course Dean's bitching about it. Alright third day then. Bye Bobby. See you then." Sam's legs buckled again, and he barely caught himself before he slid to the floor. Holding his head in his hands he said, "The demon's gone. Bobby exorcised it. He met up with Rufus and they're on the other side of the kingdom, so he'll be here to pick us up on the third day."

"It doesn't take five days to get across the kingdom! That's a two day journey, tops!"

"I'm just the messenger," Sam croaked out. "They're both pretty old, it's gonna take them longer. And They're probably catching up or something."

"God damn it," Dean grunted as he grabbed Sam's bicep and hauled him to his feet again. His brother was rambling and it made him sick. Pam had cleaned up the mess and now offered another body to lean on as they helped Sam out of the kitchen and into a chair.

"I'll go get him some meat. You stay awake, Sammy, you hear me?" instructed Pam as she scurried back into the kitchen.

"I ever tell you how much I hate receiving calls?" Sam mumbled.

"All the time," huffed Dean.

"It's all energy…not enough physical magic you know?"

"Not really, but sure. Yeah, I get it. Hey, come on. Stay awake."

Sam yawned and ate the food Pam brought to him. He had a little more energy after, but Dean sent him to bed regardless.

"He's getting better at that," the cook commented when he was gone.

"Oh, yeah. So much better."

"Well, it's way better than when he used to start convulsing and bleeding out of every orifice, don't you think?" Pam sassed back at him. Dean didn't reply. All he knew was that he hated wearing Sam out like that just for communication. He supposed it was better, but it still aggravated him. He still remembered the first time it had happened, John had almost beaten the lights right out of him. For a while they both thought Sammy was dead. When he woke up an hour later, he said he had a message from Rufus. John hadn't been able to look either of his sons in the eye for the rest of the week. Dean sighed and pushed off the counter.

"I'll be reading if you need me."

"Don't I always."


	15. Home at Last

A few lanes over from the Roadhouse stood a rather unsuccessful bar that stood on a rotted foundation. It was mostly forgettable, but the ale was cheap and the food was warm. This particular bar happened to be the meeting place for a very specific group of peasants. On the exact same moment Sam collapsed in the Roadhouse kitchen, two members of this specific group were speaking in hushed voices, as usual, planning something that was not all together legal.

"So do you think they'll let us tag along?" the young man asked his mistress.

"They better," she shrugged. Things were going well for the Moondoor thieves. And everything would be better once they had their other queen back. "I mean, we have enough to pay them pretty well, don't you think, Kevin?" The room was dark, save a few tallow lamps hung from the ceiling. The chairs were comfortable but mismatched in design, and the table was old and creaky. Last week's straw sat limply on the ground as the two conversed over supper. The queen was just glad that there weren't many patrons in this particular bar tonight.

"That's true, but I'm not sure they'll be receptive to saving a magic user, especially a fairy."

"Oh come on! You saw as plain as I did! They helped out poor little Prince Castiel! And you said he had a halo. He's a magic user, right?"

"I know, Charlie, but he shouldn't be. Everyone knows that. I just…I don't know, I'm not sure about Ash's plan. Wait, Ash _was_ the one to plan it out, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, it's just that I trust Ash a little more than Andy."

Charlie laughed. Kevin had a point, she conceded, but the worst that would happen would be that she'd just follow the hunters out and force them to help her. They were good men, bound by duty to protect. If she were in trouble, they would feel compelled to help her. She smiled and nodded to herself as she took a gulp of wine.

"But I still don't like the idea of our queen going off and endangering herself like this," Kevin sighed.

"Yeah, well, Gilda needs me. And it's hard ruling you chumps when my other half is locked in a cage a kingdom away!" Kevin scratched the back of his head and shrugged in response.

"Ava and Dorothy seem to be keeping us in line just fine."

"No, it's not you guys I'm worried about," Queen Charlie waved her hand dismissively. "It's those new guys. What were their names? Corbit? Sp-Spruce? They're completely unqualified."

"Why'd you let them join?" She made a noncommittal noise and took another rather large sip of wine.

"That's irrelevant. What I need you to do is get Dorothy and Andy on watch. I want to know the exact moment they leave that bar, you got me?"

"Don't worry, _your majesty_," Kevin drawled out with a smirk. He stood and bowed while rolling his eyes and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Hell yeah, I'm the mother fucking queen!"

Jo and Ellen were waiting for then at the door. Anael had taken about half of the hour to pack her few belongings and pay for a lunch to eat on the road. She had on her green riding cloak and had brought Castiel's blue one for him. He silently thanked God that Gabriel hadn't put it in the bags with the rest of his clothes. He let his mind wonder where all his clothes might be now. Floating in a river, caught on a tree branch and flapping in the wind, or in the belly of some terrible beast. Anael took his hand and thanked their hosts in the proper manner which included long-winded declarations of gratitude and a presentation of money. Just as Ellen was about to open the door, a deep familiar voice drifted into the front room.

"You aren't leaving without saying good bye, are you?" Dean smiled as he strode in. Castiel felt self-conscious, but didn't know why. The two men stuck their hands out and shook, but before Cas could retract his hand, Dean pulled him into a hug. He felt himself freeze up. Eventually he tried to mimic Dean's actions and brought his hands up between Dean's shoulder blades. They pulled away and Dean called Sam in. The younger hunter looked exhausted with red rimmed eyes and a half smile, but he at least seemed steady on his feet. He and Cas exchanged a similar farewell, sans the hug.

"You better let us know when you're gracing Ellen and Pam with your presence, you know?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Give Sammy here a mind call," Dean clarified with a tight-lipped smile. "You're siblings'll know how to do it. So if you're ever thinking about coming down off that throne of yours, just let us know and we'll meet up or something." He scratched the back of his neck and looked at the ceiling.

"Are you all ready, Cassie?" questioned Anael.

"Yes, let's be off." Jo brought two horses out from the stable, all reined and saddled. The royals hopped onto their fresh animals and galloped down the street.

"Look," Anael called back to him, "they're waving." Everyone, from Adam and Sam to Ellen and Pam were standing on the front step waving them off towards their castle. Castiel found himself lifting his own hand and giving a mall wave back. Soon the strange family disappeared in the hustle of the market and Castiel forced himself to turn forwards with a sigh.

"Things are strange now Castiel," his sister said from her chair. It was late evening, and after a small mid-day meal on the road and a short nap, Castiel sat with his sister watching her sew.

"How so?"

"Well aside from you acquiring magic and smiting a hellhound, many things."

Anael had insisted upon re-supplying his wardrobe, not that he would complain. She'd started almost right away and was working on a swatch of thick tan fabric that would eventually become pants. Castiel could sew just fine himself, but he'd never had the flair for design like Anael had, so he left it to her.

"Michael is to become king. I'm not sure how Gabriel managed to do it, but he convinced them that this arrangement would work."

"How is Gabriel?" Anael sighed and put her sewing down as she thought.

"He could be better. He's been a nervous wreck for the last week. Michael and Lucifer were both furious when they realized we'd sent you off. And then he had to work on convincing them. I think he's sleeping it off at the moment. I'm glad that wasn't my job."

"Then what's to become of Lucifer?"

"I'm not sure. In fact, I'm a little frightened of Lucy at the moment. He has that quietness around him that he gets when he's plotting something."

"You don't think he'll try anything against Michael?"

"It's hard to say with Lucy, but I say we take it one crisis at a time." She picked her sewing back up and began vigorously stitching. "But what about you? I want to hear more about Cassie's big adventure in the Between Woods!"

"There's nothing really of import other than what you've already heard."

"Oh really? Nothing?"

"Well I got to see how King Raphael used his enslaved fairies," he raised an eyebrow as Anael rolled her eyes. He knew she wasn't a fan of history, but she'd asked. "But nothing else I can think of, no."

"Then what about your grace getting all sealed up in that hunter of yours?"

"My what?" Anael smiled and bit her lip as she worked. She obviously enjoyed teasing Castiel like this.

"Well he had a faint halo around him. And it was the exact same light as yours. Would you like to explain how that happened?" she asked suggestively.

"Whatever you're implying didn't happen. I have no idea how magic even works or whether I can even access it again. What do you mean I sealed my grace into one of them? Which one?"

"You really have no idea?"

"No!"

"Here Cassie, let me explain. Magic is…transferable. You can store it up by putting bits and pieces in another object for later use. Usually, magic users choose gem stones," she pulled out the ruby she always wore on a gold chain from under her shirt. It had the same light her halo did but at a lower intensity. "Mainly it's because gems have such a pure elemental make up, it's easier to transfer and access the magic, and they're easy to keep close."

"But then how do-"

"I'm not finished. Sometimes higher level magic users store their extra grace or the bits of their soul in other things like swords and staffs and tables if they so desired. But then there are witches and mages and warlocks and fairies who have so much power they can seal their magic in living things. Like how witches have pieces of their souls in their familiars?" Castiel nodded. He'd always wondered how and why witches had familiars, but had never bothered long enough in the magic section of the library to find out. "But I've never seen someone seal their grace into another person before. So I've got to know how you did it and what it means."

"I don't know the answer to either of those questions. Which hunter was it?"

"Oh, now what was his name? D…Dan?"

"Dean," Castiel corrected immediately. Anael smirked and tilted her head at him. A wave of red hair cascaded from behind her ear. Castiel shrugged and looked at the floor. "With the hellhound. He was about to fall and I grabbed him apparently. I don't know. I don't really remember."

"I guess you're his guardian angel, huh?" she teased as she sttched. Castiel rolled his eyes and let out a loud sigh.

"You and I both know that we are not angels."

"Oh right of course. Only the watered down, soupy messes of them. But I have to say, I'd rather be less powerful in exchange for my own sanity than an indestructible psychotic force of God, Cassie."

"That's not what I meant, Anael, and you know it."

"Of course I do. Sometimes I wish you could take a joke," she smiled.

"Well I don't appreciate getting teased about my friend."

"Oh, he's your friend?"

"Yes, I believe so. Sam as well."

"So in a week, you managed to make two friends? I'm impressed Castiel. I don't think Michael or Lucifer can say that much."

"They don't need friends. They're too caught up in one another to be able to care about any one else." Anael sighed in agreement.

"And to think they were so close when they were younger."

"I have a feeling it goes back to choosing power over sanity idea you were talking about before." She gave him a sad smile, but stayed silent for the rest of the evening. She was about halfway done with the trousers when she bade him good night and left for her chambers. Castiel sat staring at the fire dancing in the hearth for a long while trying to clear his mind. When the solitude began to weigh on him, he stood and proceeded to the library. His books would give him company.

Castiel's face jerked off the page. He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep and for a moment, he had trouble remembering where he was. The light pouring in through the arched window illuminated shelves upon shelves of books, telling him he was in the royal library. He was about to put his head back down on the book in front of him when the noise that had jostled him from his dreams rang out again.

"Castiel! Anael! Micheal! God damn it! Would one of you answer me?" It was Gabriel's voice, and he sounded urgent. Painfully so, in fact. Castiel scrubbed his face and straightened his shirt before standing. He poked his head out of the grand wooden door and called back to his brother.

"What is it Gabriel?"

"Where are you?"

"Library." He was answered by the sound of clunking feet on stone until his brother, all dressed in his ceremonial armor, stood in front of him panting. "Now what on earth is the matter?"

"It's Lucifer," his brother breathed out.

"What? What about Lucifer?"

"He's gone."

**A/N: I probably should have mentioned this at the beginning of the saga, but it completely slipped my mind! This story is going to be told in three parts, "Once Upon A Time", "The Cage", and "Profound Bond". This chapter marks the end of the first act. That means there's going to be a month-or-so intermission before regular updates will begin again (in this particular fanfic). Hopefully, I'll be posting the start of the next act on the 11th or 18th of January. The reason for this is that I'm working on a Christmas thing over on my DA account that I didn't get to finish last year, plus I have a lot of school work coming up. The intermissions will give me time to work out the plots and get ahead in the writing so I can have regular updates for you all. Also, this'll give anyone who needs time to catch up with the story a few weeks to do so. I've tried to set up as much as possible for the next part without giving anything away, but at the same time, I feel like it might be a little confusing. If you have any questions about the AU so far or anything, please feel free to ask! And thank you for reading! See you next month! 3**


End file.
